


hold me close (and hold me fast)

by Judeyjude



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Sirius Black, Dimension Travel, Dissociation, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Marauders Friendship, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, but they love each other so much guys there is FLUFF, lowkey James/Lily, more fluff than i realized, racially ambiguous Remus (can't know bc he comes from a different world), remus and sirius are from different dimensions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judeyjude/pseuds/Judeyjude
Summary: Mom says love makes you brave and Sirius worries that she’s lied to him because Sirius finds it the opposite. With that kind smile directed at him and only him, the endearing reminder of when they first met, Sirius lacks all courage to ask the important questions.————the story where Sirius and Remus are Dimension Travelers that meet by chance, and then again...and again...and again.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ***** TRIGGER WARNING ***** : I didn't add major character death tag because this spans across their entire lives so it's inevitable to have that. Both of them will die when their ending comes. Any other small warnings will be listed at the beginning of chapters and explained in detail at the end.
> 
> the next four chapters will be 10,000-ish words and the epilogue a little longer than this prologue

“Bullshit,” Haggy calls and the few or so around him titter. 

 

The warm night swells into the room from the open doors and into Theodore’s heart. Faint light blankets this home born of windows and openness, belonging and not belonging to a man who never belonged. The gathering has delved well into the evening, reaching rosy cheeks from laughter or wine depending on the person. People tell stories—Theodore hears old Dom crafting something entirely made up about an opera brawl. 

 

Theodore is blessed at his old age to have an evening grandeur in its company, to know such a vast group considered his family and to have been surrounded by them his whole life. There are newbies here, too, beloved friends and significant others brought along for the first time by the younger folk, many of whom sit around him.

 

Someone Theodore has yet to be introduced to supports Haggy’s disbelief, saying, “You might as well believe in magic if that’s true.”

 

“Guardian angels do exist,” Theodore insists, relaxed against the cushions. “At least, there is one we know of and if you don’t, then I feel sorry for you.” He winks. More laughs. “You all really haven’t been told the greatest love story to exist, then?”

 

They shake their heads. A few new people join them, sitting on armrests or on the floor, comfortably leaning against someone’s legs. Haggy has the right to look offended for not knowing this story in the roots of their history. His older cousin, Harriet, catches Theodore’s eye a little ways away. Her chest heaves with a sigh, her obligatory smile bittersweet.

 

“Greatest love story?” Haggy prompts.

 

“The most tragic,” Theodore says. “Now, hold on close, because this won’t be anything the likes you’ve imagined before.”


	2. Part One: this magic spell you cast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2003-2004
> 
> their story begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: 1) Sirius swears excessively at times and this will go away as he matures; he's sixteen in 2003 and hoping for that cool vibe. 2) very short transphobic memory* check endnotes for details. 3) bruised face from a homophobic attack, the fight happens outside of the P.O.V.; violence not detailed. 4) brief mention of alcohol and weed 
> 
> *the large line to break up scenes means **months** later, significant time has passed. if there is a ~ in between text that means the time passed between scenes is insignificant, either only a few hours or days, weeks if it's not important*  
>  **tl;dr: every time Sirius jumps in this chapter, it's been months since the last time**

* * *

 

_2003_

* * *

 

“Motherfucker,” Sirius curses. 

 

A man in a navy suit passes by and shoots him a disapproving look. Sirius sneers back, his upper lip curled, baring his teeth. Mom teases him for this “new” rebellious and unfiltered phase. James snickers every time, as if he isn’t in a permanent nerdy asshole phase.

 

Sirius crouches, not giving a fuck about being in the middle of a sidewalk in god-knows-what city. He clutches his head and closes his eyes. The sensation of Jumping will never become familiar or easy, like blinking and suddenly being upside down on a roller coaster loop, falling out of your cart and plunging down headfirst. 

 

He begins mentally going through the checklist he and the Potters created.

 

1\. Am I clothed?

 

_Yes_. Sirius gives no fucks about gratitude in these situations but no nudity is a plus.

 

2\. Did anyone see me leave?

 

_Maybe_. Fucking—well, Sirius will get to that next.

 

3\. How inconvenient?

 

_Pretty fucking inconvenient_. Taking a missed test in an abandoned classroom is less than ideal to skip out on. No one had watched over him but someone was supposedly going to check in on him ever so often, making sure James hadn’t snuck in—a valid concern. Sirius will be royally screwed when he returns and has no explanation for why he disappeared. 

 

4\. Did anyone see him arrive?

 

_Maybe_. It’s a busy street, however, he can get away with it even if someone had seen him. After all these years, Sirius slips away from suspicion with suave lying, a natural skill sharpened to a point, and this is an easy lie. The person merely “thought” they had seen him "appear" when he’d been “hidden” behind someone walking the “entire time”. Easy as pie. 

 

5\. Where is he?

 

Sirius opens his eyes and straightens up, ignoring dirty looks from people moving around him. _A big city_. He’s been to Chicago once and this looks vaguely similar. Sunnier and with only a chilly wind in February. _Not bad_ , Sirius thinks, tilting his head from side to side. Potential for great fun. He’ll try and bring knick-knacks back to James again, despite it never working.

 

Step six of the Potter questions is about finding a safe place to wait until he Jumps back but generally he disregards this rule, more keen on exploring. 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Sirius walks—South, he decides, weaving through the throng. 

 

“Excuse me?” Someone jogs up to Sirius, gently touching his elbow. Sirius walks, eyes stubbornly staring straight ahead, his heart hammering more than he will ever admit. “I don’t mean to bother you,” the person goes on, “but I see you seem a little lost. A tourist I presume?”

 

“Sure,” Sirius says. He should be more convincing, provided with a great cover to snatch, but who the fuck cares? He’ll be gone soon enough. 

 

“I’d be more than happy to show you around. No catch at all, no scam. This is quite embarrassing, but I’m lonely. I’ve had a shit day and I saw your bewilderment and well,” the person chuckles. It’s a nice chuckle. Warm. “I hoped maybe you could distract me.”

 

Sirius halts, turning and raising his eyebrows at this person. They instantly flush, cheeks coloring so fast it amuses Sirius. 

 

“No! No, no, god, sorry. Not like that! I mean, would you like to hang out with me? Get a hot dog, go sit by the harbor? Bookshop, if you’re interested.” The person bites their lip, their eyes so hopeful it stirs something inside Sirius. A tugging feeling. 

 

_I want to see how many times I can make you blush_. It’s a strange thought coming from left field. An honest one, too. Sirius stays put, forcing others to move around him, uncaring when a shoulder slams into him. The stranger uncares in a different way, stepping off the curb and out of people’s way, unfazed by the extreme closeness of passing cars.

 

There’s an attractive way to how the stranger talks, how their voice sounds, how they hold theirself slightly tilted down to the left, and confident even with their shoulders slumped. Fascinating even within a few minutes and Sirius always latches onto something new and shiny.

 

“Okay,” Sirius says. Beats wandering around alone. And if this person sees him disappear—again, who cares? Not like they can track him down in a world he doesn’t exist in.

 

The person’s reaction delays, a sort of shock, and then they stride forward. “Remus Lupin.” They nod their head down once. Their hands stay at their side, not holding out to shake Sirius’.

 

“Sirius.” With a bow, Sirius says, “At your service.”

 

He’s rewarded with a marvelous smile, and Sirius wonders if this is what people mean when they say he can win anything with his charming grin.

 

“A fitting name, Dog Star,” Remus taunts. “Is your bark far worse than your bite?”

 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” 

 

Biting their lip, Remus looks away in a melancholic manner. Tightly, they say, “I can try.” Remus inhales, exhales, and is cheery once more. “Alright, right this way. Are you a vegetarian?”

 

“No.”

 

“There’s this great hot dog stand two blocks this way. Follow me.”

 

Sirius does. The hot dog stand rates at a mediocre scale to Sirius’ taste but who knows? Maybe cities’ standards are low. People label Sirius as snobby, so there’s that, too. He loads a shit ton of mustard on it to counterbalance the plastic-like taste. 

 

A block away Remus laughs. “I lied, these suck, don’t they?”

 

“Oh my god, you shithead! I can’t believe you. You are far too innocent looking, you asshole.”

 

Remus snorts with laughter, a bit too amused. “Sorry.”

 

“No, you are not.”

 

“Guilty as charged. By the way, how do you identify?”

 

“What?”

 

Remus becomes interested in sidewalk cracks, Sirius dare say panicked. “Man, woman? The construct you feel? My pronouns are he and him.”

 

Subtly, Remus widens the distance between them as they walk. Sirius hurries up his brain processing the information. “Uh, man, I guess? I never thought about that. He and him? And what do you mean by construct?”

 

Remus’ lips turn up hesitantly. He launches himself into a speech, moving his hands in circles as he explains all about how gender is different from anatomical sex and he briefly mentions sexuality and Sirius wants to stay here forever. He can feel his pulse beating in his stomach, an annoying pet peeve, and it’s far too fast. He never met anyone mentioning not-straight. Is Remus gay? Is sexuality not “binary”, too? How does Remus know all this? 

 

They sit on a concrete bench by a harbor with a fishy smell. Sirius chuckles at Remus’ nose wrinkle and apology for the smell but he says, shyly, that he likes the call of birds even if they are common seagulls.

 

An icy feeling ghosts Sirius’ skin and he stupidly excuses it as the wind until it grows and grows and _shit shit, fuck fuck_.

 

“I have to go,” Sirius blurts.

 

“What?” Remus’ alarm laces with disappointment.

 

Sirius, for once, can’t let someone see. He cares. Remus’ impression of him can’t be ruined by this.

 

“Bye,” Sirius shouts, bolting up and away across a grassy field, wishing to say so much more, so much more. He makes it behind a pillar just in time to drop to the floor, his body convulsing horribly.

 

And then he’s gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fucking shit,” Sirius screams the curse this time. A cow in the field beside him moos with immense offense. Flipping it off, Sirius stomps his feet in a hissy fit. James would cackle with laughter if he could see him. Probably mother-hen the fuck out of Sirius afterwards, too. 

 

Everyone has remarked how sullen and depressed Sirius seems—though only the Potters know it’s because of the Jump. Not the details behind why, because Sirius wants it all to himself. He’s being a big baby, but if he can’t see Remus in real life then he will hoard Remus’ specialness like a petty dragon, tail curled around the memory.

 

Excluding James, Sirius never met anyone he felt such a connection to, someone shining brightly above others. Potentially the greatest friend Sirius could have ever had. Devil knows Sirius needs friends. The new foreign exchange student, Peter, appears okay in Sirius’ _will-I-gain-anything-from-us-being-friends_ meter. He’s taken to James to the point that Sirius teases him as being gay, but he’s no Remus.

 

When he had experienced the icy feeling moments ago, Sirius hoped beyond belief to teleport to the same world for once. What bullshit—life hands him a fucking cow field instead. 

 

Kicking at dirt in between the yellow grass patches, Sirius spends a good time doing so before giving up and lying down. He stares at the sky, an endless blue stretch absent from clouds. Little black squigglies float in his vision, an illusion, and he reminds himself to ask James if he sees that too when he looks at the sky.

 

From nowhere, a pained gasp sounds behind him and Sirius lazily looks over, prepares disgust for the assumed cow in labor. To his astonishment—it’s—it’s—

 

No. 

 

_It can’t be._

 

“Holy fuck,” he says, meaning to say Remus.

 

Remus lies splat on the ground and his head snaps up, his expression comical. Numbly, it surprises Sirius that Remus’ jaw doesn’t dislocate from how far it hangs down.

 

“Sirius,” he squeaks. “You—you’re a Traveler?”

 

“Um, yeah?” _Why am I being so sassy? This is what I wished for every night and day!_ “You’re a Jumper?”

 

“I think? I teleport,” now there’s a common word they both agree on, “to places but never, ever the same one.”

 

“Same!” Sirius unsteadily rises to his feet now, excitement coursing through his veins. Someone is like him! “This is so weird!”

 

“So weird,” Remus marvels back, sitting up. His eyebrows furrow into a caterpillar. “And we’re back together.”

 

“Who cares. This is incredible. Holy fuck, holy fuck.” Because his self-control button is eternally defective, he blurts, “I missed you.” Shifting all his weight to his toes, Sirius nearly springs up with satisfaction when Remus’ cheeks slowly blossom pink.

 

“Oh no,” Remus says, twitching. _Shit was that too much? Sirius, you fucking idiot!_ “I’m sorry, I can’t control this, I’m going already!”

 

“No!” Sirius lunges, his hands reaching out, but Remus is already gone. His clothes crumple to the dead grass.

 

Sirius stares in a stupor, vaguely thinking how unfortunate it will be when Remus teleports home naked. Slowly, Sirius unfreezes, and picks up Remus’ hideous shades-of-brown sweater, burrowing his face into it—that’s not weird, that’s _platonic_ , a word Sirius learned from Remus last Jump. He grins madly. 

 

The cows watch him warily—are animals more human-like in this dimension?—and he jumps, physically jumps, around, whipping the sweater over his head. Someone is like him! He saw Remus again! Remus, Remus, Remus!

 

Oh, now he _needs_ to tell James. He’s rarely wished to control Jumping as much as he does right now, so he can go home and rant for hours immediately.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Holding Peter up by the collar, Sirius snarls, “You cannot tell anyone. I will make your life miserable, I will chase you out-of-town, I will make your life worse than death, you’ll be begging for it, you will be a humiliation. You got that, you little fucking nosey-ass rat?”

 

“Take a chill pill, Paddy,” James says plainly. He sits on the wall at the far end of the abandoned lot near their house. A cigarette hangs loosely, tauntingly, from his mouth, pushing for the epitome of cool. _Stupid idiot_. Sirius loves his brother, but James remains densely unaware of the sheer enormity of his dorkiness. The pack living in his back pocket for the past month and the ones he sticks in his mouth are only there to infuriate teachers and elders. Mom and Dad find it hilarious—the truth is they are candy cigarettes. 

 

Sometimes people are far too dumb to notice the details, like the fact no fucking smoke comes out from James’ mouth.

 

Sirius lowers Peter to the ground, calmed by the dweeby sight of James. 

 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Peter promises, far too nonplussed by Sirius’ threats. “This is real fucking cool.” Swearing sounds chunky, awkward in his mouth. “And I’m a marauder, yeah?” He glances at James and Sirius, his fingers curling and uncurling anxiously.

 

“Oh yeah,” James affirms, straightening up. He pulls the candy cigarette out. “For sure, Petey.” He shoots Sirius a severe look. 

 

“If you keep this quiet then you are. For real. You know,” Sirius runs a hand through his hair for show, shaking out the growing strands, acting highly contemplative, “a true marauder needs a nickname. Let’s see—rat, weasel, hmm needs something more subtle. Whiskers, perhaps?”

 

“Lame,” James says, chipper and fake-stubbing out the cigarette, like some pretentious slam poet living as a poor artist in New York.

 

“Mousey? Mice are like rats. Ugh, rats have those gross tails,” Peter adds, dumbfounding Sirius that he actually goes along with this horrible taunting. 

 

Sirius says, “Yeah, yeah, like snakes! Naked mole rat snakes.”

 

“Nah, I think they’re more like worms,” James says, shuddering.

 

“That’s it.” Sirius snaps his fingers. “That’s it, Pete.” Sirius jumps and raises his hands together above his head, moving them apart as he presents, “Wormtail.”

 

Peter scrunches his face up, bringing attention to his “baby fat” chubby cheeks. He shrugs. “Eh. Could be worse, I guess.” He grins. “A marauder!”

 

“A marauder!” James echoes, jumping off the wall. Sirius repeats the word with less enthusiasm. “Really, Wormy,” James says, “it’s not that cool. Now you get to hear Sirius go on and on and on about,” James flutters his eyelashes and pitches his voice high, “Remus.”

 

Peter perks up at being invited into gossip, not noticing the quick look James gives Sirius, an _I-got-you_ smile. Sirius’ stiff posture melts. For a whole day he essentially went through a constant panic attack after Jumping right in front of Peter, suddenly and undeniable that it happened. He threw up as soon as he arrived in the new dimension and then paced, walking miles until his feet begged him to stop far dark into the night. He slept, trembling, on a bench. The longest amount of time he has ever been gone.

 

James never will reveal Sirius’ secret and Sirius never trusted anyone else with it other than the Potters. He’s not ready to explain and deal with all the invasive questions Peter will undoubtedly ask once the Remus tidbit stops distracting him. He’s a cool kid but fairly tactless. While Sirius gives no fucks about tact, Peter goes about life blindly. Compassionate, certainly, but quite insensitive without trying. 

 

But Sirius likes him. Not that he is fond to admitting it. 

 

A prickling sensation starts in Sirius’ fingers, similar to when he hyperventilated yesterday. “James,” Sirius says. “James I think it’s happening.”

 

“Already? No, no it doesn’t happen this often. Sirius!”

 

Coldness engulfs Sirius.

 

“Pads! Be sa—”

 

~

 

Bolting upright, Sirius gasps with heaving breaths, his dry throat suffering with it, fear controlling him like it hasn’t since he was a young child. His head spins.

 

“Hey, it’s alright, Dog Star,” a voice hushes, “breathe, you’re safe and you’re alive.”

 

Sirius’ heartbeat increases and he flinches when something touches his shoulder. A hand, he notes dimly. The hand rubs his back in small circles, almost hovering over his bare skin, brushing it in a tease. His breathing slows, his eyes drying.

 

“Remus,” the word tumbles off his tongue.

 

“Good,” Remus praises from behind. He doesn’t pause his touching and Sirius leans into it. _More, more please_. An after effect of his traumatic first years of life—craving touch, an overly tactile personality—and needing a reminder he is a solid form, a fear he developed from being a Jumper. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, Dog Star.”

 

The nickname soothes his heart, a balm heating him back up. 

 

“What happened? Where am I?”

 

The following silence sends goosebumps across Sirius’ skin and he prevents the whimper in his throat when Remus removes himself. He comes to sit in view, tucking his legs to the side. 

 

“We’re somewhere new,” Remus says. “I’ve been here four days and I was at the riverbank,” _do you only listen to water birds_ , “and you Apparated,” a new word, “right into the rushing water. A few people helped me fish you out and I lied my way through saying you slipped. I brought you back here. I’m sorry, it’s the best safety I can find. An abandoned dirty apartment.” Remus half-smiles, sardonic and reassuring. 

 

Sirius rubs his face roughly, pressing his palms fervently into his skin, dragging and stretching the flesh. Right now, he doesn’t give a fuck about a smelly-ass room. “Fuck. Holy fuck, I almost died. Died. Drowned. Shit! What if you hadn’t been there?” He digs his palms into his eyes, breath catching. “I hate this, oh god, I hate this.”

 

Reaching out, Remus takes Sirius’ hand, giving a comforting squeeze and letting go. “I know.” He kindly and patiently averts his eyes as Sirius sniffles.

 

“How long have I been unconscious?”

 

“Two days,” Remus answers, uncapping a water bottle and handing it over. “You’ve been in and out of it incoherently, a concussion and high fever. I’m fairly good with these things and I assure you, you are going to be just as healthy and sane as before.”

 

Sirius chokes on the water and splutters out curses. “Shit, the Potters are going to be freaking the fuck out. Two days. That’s the longest I’ve ever…fuck.”

 

Remus’ eyes widen a minuscule amount, something most wouldn’t catch but Sirius needs to be aware as fuck and exceptionally perceptive with his “condition”. He wonders what part shocked Remus. He clearly excels far more than even Sirius in deception, hides a thousand more things than Sirius can catch. 

 

“The Potters?”

 

“My family.”

 

Remus nods, sucking his upper lip in. The skin under his eyes tightens in a way implying he is thinking hard about a large, unanswerable question.

 

“Wait,” Sirius said. “Did someone, did I—” _a shadowy memory, dark blue and warm_ “—who gave me CPR?”

 

_So pink, how can someone blush so easily?_ Sirius only saw true blushes that books spoke of on Peter and one stranger in the grade below him at school. Delightful power surges through him. _I did that_ , the sentence dances in his head.

 

“Um, I did. I’m so, so sorry. I know that’s a boundary I shouldn’t cross and so intimate and—”

 

“Remus,” Sirius laughs, “you saved my life. Kiss me all you want when I’m dying, alright? You have my permanent permission for now on. Okay?”

 

Sucking his upper lip in again—how _fucking_ distracting—Remus slowly releases it. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, you idiot.”

 

Remus nods. “Alright.” Sirius feels immensely better when Remus makes him laugh by saying, “I had to combat a giant squid, though. Your lips are in high demand.”

 

Sirius spots a giant sweater, poncho-like but ruffled and with a v-neck, next to his lumpy, yellow-stained mattress. Disregarding this dimensions horrid fashion trend, he grabs it, pulling it over his head. Had Remus looked at Sirius’ torso while he slept? Does he have any thoughts on Sirius’ body? Why is Sirius so interested in some stranger’s opinion on his (nonexistent) abs?

 

“Well,” Sirius breaks the silence, “that’s an interesting first kiss story.”

 

“You—you’ve never been kissed before?”

 

Sirius juts his chin out. “Yeah, and so what?”

 

“I don’t know. Sorry. I don’t care about that stuff. That was stupid of me to assume.”

 

“’S alright.”

 

They avoid eye contact. 

 

“So, have you?”

 

“Have I what?”

 

“Been kissed before?”

 

“Um. Well. A few times, yes. But just pecks. It’s better this way to not do that,” Remus waves his arms, “whole thing. Less complicated.” The collar of Remus’ white shirt dips down his left shoulder and he runs his fingers across his collarbone, hypnotizingly, over and over and over.

 

“What about at home? You can have your family say your sick when you,” _how did Remus phrase it_ , “Travel.”

 

Remus’ nails scratch now, turning the collarbone pink, soon red. “I have no family, Sirius.” _What happened to my Dog Star nickname?_ “I have no home,” Remus says. With a peculiar grace, he pushes himself off the floor and walks to a small window in the dingy room. “I’m tired. Do you think you could watch over for me?”

 

“Of course. I owe you, Remus.” They both know he won’t truly sleep. If Remus needs space, to run away, Sirius will more than happily oblige in thanks. 

 

Remus refuses to take the mattress, preferring to sleep in the corner of the room, with an unspoken good view of everything and defensive position for attack. Sitting down, Remus leans against the wall’s corner, laying his head back.

 

At first, Sirius excels at staring at the door, mainly from being consumed by a new burning pain traveling from his stomach to his throat. Unconnected to this feeling, he wonders who Remus has kissed. Boys? Girls? Softly, with a pressing, passionate force? Fumbled? Loving? Unexpectedly or a long time crush?

 

When he can’t take the pondering any longer, he gives up and stares at Remus. He catalogues everything, wanting to remember him correctly this time, in case—Sirius’ heart squeezes—it’s the last. The last two times, things happened so fast Sirius paid no attention. Now, he has time, no coldness to him. 

 

Tan skin, a noticeably brown shade. Pale right now but Sirius imagines in the summer it grows far darker. Lean, questionably underweight. Broad shoulders. At a glance, he can be easily undermined but Sirius sees the strength in wiry muscles, a ferocity developed from something terrible. Sirius shivers, thinking about going against Remus in a fight. 

 

His legs are long, his torso short. Straining his memory, Sirius remembers being inches taller, though Remus has a slumping gait. His hair is a shade darker than his skin, tight ringlet curls, wild but unlike James’—Remus’ are elegant and falling past his shoulders. The last two times, he had thrown it up in a fat bun. 

 

An oval-shaped face, freckles—at least thirty and big dark ones, too. His nose has a crook in it and it’s long but narrow. It’s endearing somehow. Eyebrows are on the thicker side, dark, dark brown, more so than Sirius’ black hair. A few wrinkles dip in here and there but he’s clearly young, not college-aged at least.

 

There’s an almost feminine quality to his face. Sirius doesn’t know how to explain it, but Remus’ body is a mix of the two genders, between everything, really. The first time they met, Remus offering up his pronouns had actually been helpful. At Sirius’ school, Remus would be made fun of for it, probably called a pussy, asked to pull his pants down to prove his manhood. People had asked Sirius that same question many times before until they realized he had no qualms about pulling his pants down. The question stopped for others, too, when he and James pantsed all the main bullies at the most opportune moment.

 

Remus is not traditionally attractive or handsome, not eye-catching. But he has unfairly smooth skin and the structure of his face is unusual in an alluring way. Enough so that Sirius can’t stop looking, analyzing. His cheekbones are not present like Sirius’ sharp ones, but his jaw has hard lines from the sides, soft looking from the front just like his mouth. Unconsciously, Sirius touches his own lips, wondering what Remus’ ones had felt like. 

 

The scorching touch returns inside Sirius’ stomach and throat. No wonder people want to kiss Remus.

 

Remus mumbles something and Sirius shifts his body away quickly, unfortunately noisily.

 

“Hm?”

 

“You’re staring,” Remus mumbles.

 

“Am not!”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sirius chances a glance. Remus’ eyes are closed but the right side of lip twitches up in a soft smirk. 

 

At some point, Sirius must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s in his own bed. At home. Luxurious and smelling of spices. _Sirius_ , soft and sad, echoes in his head.

 

 

* * *

_2004_

* * *

 

 

 

“What do you think it means?” Sirius asks, leaning forward on the table with his elbows. He Jumped here an hour ago, aimlessly wandering around with a scowling pout until he spotted Remus’ long curls blowing in the wind. Sirius _may_ have freaked out and gone a smidge emotionally overboard upon seeing Remus, attracting a few stares. But five months have passed, three lonesome Jumps, and they haven’t connected at all since the drowning incident.

 

But here they are now, brought back together again—inexplicable is the question.

 

“I don’t know,” Remus mumbles. His forehead and the skin around his eyes draw up tight, a stark contrast to Sirius’ muscles bundled from euphoria. “I’ve never met anyone like us before. At least, I don’t think I have.”

 

“Me too! I was getting worried,” Sirius says it nonchalantly, acting like he hasn’t been fussed about their separation, “that I wouldn’t see you again. The last three Jumps were so boring now that I know how fun it can be with you, uh, with company.” Goodbye casual indifference—Sirius awards himself an A for effort.

 

Remus’ cheeks remain not-pink at the compliment. Sirius frowns.

 

“Only three?” Remus rubs his collarbone over his shirt and then grabs the table’s cloth napkin, placing it in his lap but not unrolling it from its tight form. Their chairs sit close together, allowing Remus’ every inch for Sirius to see. They’re lucky it’s a busy outdoor café near a busy street, in case a Jump or Travel happens and so no one listens in.

 

“Yeah, some rural town and two cities.” Sirius shrugs; it had been only a few minutes in each. The days afterward were the excruciating part, knowing he had missed a chance to see Remus and agonizing over what Remus meant by saying he has no home, no family. “What ‘bout you?”

 

With proper lighting, the premature wrinkles lining Remus’ face stand out. Something about him is similar to Lily Evans, a girl in Sirius’ grade, and though she irks him, he admits she is clever, wise, more mature than James, Sirius, and Peter want to be and more than their whole grade ever can be. With this, however, she carries a particular haughtiness. Remus shares every characteristic with her but that—old beyond his age but very plain about it, not yielding it as anything, simply letting it lie there as a simple trait like any other. 

 

The sunlight makes Remus look ethereal, even with how visually worried he becomes. He shakes his head, not in a _no_ but in a _get-yourself-together_. “It doesn’t matter. It’s nice to see you, too.” He smiles, nice even if it’s not wide enough to split open and reveal happy teeth. 

 

“I’ve never Jumped this often, either,” Sirius leaves nothing out, spilling it all, “I go to maybe four A.D.s a year.” Last year totaled to an eight.

 

“A.D.s?”

 

“Alternate dimensions,” Sirius explains. “My brother and I came up with all the terms. Well, my second brother.”

 

Remus pulls his hair back into a bun, taking a few tries to get it to his satisfaction. His eyes are light brown and have nowhere to hide from Sirius. “Second brother?”

 

“A story for another time. But I was born in a dimension with a,” Sirius scrunches his face up horribly as a substitute for descriptive words, “family. Old fashioned punishment ideals and they didn’t understand my Jumping.”

 

“Frightened,” Remus says, not guessing.

 

“Mom says the same thing, my second mom.” A smile flutters across Sirius’ face, remembering the first time he met Euphemia, four-years-old and naked on the Potter’s kitchen counter. “I met James during a Jump and they adopted me. I imagine their home and when I return I always end up there. Haven’t seen my horrid birth family since I was about six.”

 

Remus shifts in his seat, a shadow half-casting itself over his face. “I’m happy to hear you found what you deserve. They’re good to you?”

 

“More than good. Fantastic. James can be a right old shit, sometimes.” Sirius grins.

 

The responding laugh from Remus is higher-pitched and short, unlike previous Jumps. His eyes hardly meet Sirius’. “Wait,” he says, fingers curling around his napkin. “You’ve…you’ve ‘Jumped’ since you’ve been born?”

 

“Oh yeah. Loads of times, let me tell you. Super inconvenient.” Sirius rolls his eyes and stretches.

 

“I just thought…well, not to be rude, but you looked so confused when I saw you back in that city, and scared. Looking back on it the past few months, I thought it was one of your first times.”

 

A spark of offense rises in Sirius’ chest, but in his heart of hearts, he knows Remus’ unintentional rudeness holds no judgement. Sirius is trained—had to be—to judge character, get a quick read and then go further for survival. That’s how he picked up on Remus’ far more advanced self-preservation skills and ability to assimilate into new A.D.s effortlessly. He can’t analyze Remus further, but he sees it’s there. “No, no. Definitely not.” Grasping for dignity, Sirius adds, “It had been awhile since it had happened, though. Just caught me by surprise is all.”

 

Remus adjusted his chair in the past minutes, bringing it closer, facing Sirius more, a spark returning to him now knowing that Sirius has Jumped forever.

 

“How many places have you been to?” Remus leans forward and whispers, “What non-earth ones have you been to?” His pupils are blown wide, his body almost vibrating with hunger for knowledge. 

 

Sirius rears back. “What do you mean? You’ve been to other planets?”

 

“No, you know, I mean it’s probably earth but the ones that are so different from all this.” Remus gesticulates to their surroundings flippantly. “No humans. Weird alien-type people or earth but as we never could have imagined.”

 

“I,” Sirius’ lips part, he struggles with what to say, “I.” Remus’ face slowly recedes from its eagerness. “I don’t know—you’ve, I—it’s always been the same as here. An identical version of,” he hesitates, “here.”

 

In second grade, Sirius had an in-class assignment to describe what the color red was to a Martian who had never seen that color. Little Sirius didn’t take to it well—why ask a dull question that leads to no answers—and balled up the paper, chucking it at Little James’ head.

 

“Oh.” Remus settles back into his chair. “Have you…have you ever been to a reality where life progressed differently? Technology never developed? Germany won World War Two?”

 

The earlier numbness gives away to awe. Being the Martian ignorant to colors is a far more exciting position to be in, to have your world opened to unknown possibilities. “Really? You’ve really been to, to A.D.s like that? That’s incredible, what’s, what’s that like? I mean this,” he runs a hand over his body, “this is boring, an annoyance really. But you, you must have great adventures! It must be exciting—have you ever seen dinosaurs?”

 

Remus’ attention strays elsewhere. An injured bee bumbles about on the sidewalk beside them, trying to walk to who-knows-where, unnoticed by passerby. A minute ticks by, spikes of _oh no_ every time a foot comes close, but the insect never meets death’s cruel touch, moving obliviously. Until someone jay-walking across the street, right in the bee’s line, steps up onto the curb and squashes it in one smooth step.

 

Sirius opens his mouth and half-rises in his seat, ready to yell at the person, but then he comes to his sense. He hadn’t seen it coming at all, absorbed into this minuscule world, pulled away from his pressing inquiries. He sits back down in his seat, looks away, can’t bear to see the messy guts. Remus’ head remains tilted to the sidewalk. His face smooths to the point where his pre-mature wrinkles mostly disappear. 

 

“I’d rather it be an annoyance. Life is built for annoyances. It’s not made to be like a video game,” Remus muses. “It shouldn’t be about trying not to die. Life should be about living.”

 

His eyes meet Sirius’ unnervingly. A greenish color rings itself messily around the pupils, like small flower petals. 

 

Sirius struggles voicing his next question. “Do you come into danger—real danger—often?”

 

“It’s alright,” Remus says. The wrinkles reappear with a smile.

 

A weight drops into Sirius’ stomach, heavy and sinking at a molasses pace down into the depths. The back of his throat sours with an acidic taste. It’s been five whole months that they’ve been separated, too much time where Sirius’ mind ran in endless analyzing, imaginative cycles. All this time he worried about Remus meeting other people and becoming great friends, maybe having affairs. Having extraordinary lives and people, little to no room for thoughts or wonders about Sirius.

 

Hotly, Sirius says, “It’s not alright.”

 

“Sirius,” Remus places his hand, uncommonly warm, on Sirius’, “I’m going. I hope—” a vacuum sucks the air from his lungs violently and he twitches with impressively controlled muscles. His smile stays until the last second, when his face pinches together, his eyes filling with palpable fear.

 

The napkin from Remus’ lap falls from the air to the now empty chair. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

A blurry, grey Remus peers down at Sirius’ face.

 

“Um,” Sirius says, waiting for thoughts to tell him what to say. His back hurts. Whatever he’s lying on is bumpy and soon to make him grumpy. “Who?” He meant to say what.

 

Remus’ mouth quirks up. “Long time no see, Dog Star. Care for a hand?” He extends his hand out, shadowy in the dark, and Sirius latches on, allowing Remus to pull him to his feet. Little effort needed on Remus’ part for hefting up all the dead weight, Sirius notes.

 

“What?” Sirius gets it right this time, though no more intelligible, once standing. He misses the warmth of Remus’ hand when he lets go.

 

“You’ve Traveled, or Jumped, is that what you say?” Sirius gets the impression Remus knows for a fact that Sirius’ lingo is Jumped. Why hide remembering? “I heard a thump and I assume it was you unless you have a habit of lying on gravel roads in the night. I’ve just been here myself. Not your world, right?”

 

Rubbing his head, Sirius shakes some pebbles out from his hair. “No.” It’s dark. If Remus steps five footsteps back or so, his features would be hard to make out. Something hoots or howls in the distance. “Can we, uh, sit down?”

 

“Yes, of course,” a light touch cups Sirius’ elbow, guiding him sideways, “wait one moment.” The touch disappears and Sirius nibbles on his lip, watching the slurry image of Remus moving his arms in a strange interpretive dance. Remus sighs finally and bends over, setting and smoothing something on the ground—a jacket, he took his jacket off for Sirius. “Sit down.”

 

Sirius sits. The ground next to the road is just as rocky and has prickly weeds. He pulls his exploring hands back into his lap after pulling a thistle spike off his thumb. Remus sits next to him, huddled close because the jacket’s material spans little space. Their arms touch and a squiggly feeling worms inside Sirius’ stomach along with the ball of lethargic confusion.

 

“Is this alright?” Remus asks, his voice hushed. Sirius finds being quiet pointless since it looks like no humans are around for miles, but he trusts Remus’ instincts. He’ll have to wait and gauge how paranoid or overly careful Remus leans toward on the survival scale.

 

Sirius nods, pleasantly surprised when Remus relaxes, slouching and pressing his side into Sirius more. It’s grounding and Sirius welcomes it. “I think,” he starts. “I think I was napping.” Remus hums. “I was—James and Peter took me to the movies. I was in a movie theater, shit.” It all floods back in with a smack, a headache quickly growing.

 

“Not a bad place to Jump,” Remus offers in condolence. “No one to see you.”

 

“True,” Sirius mumbles. Did falling asleep trigger the Jump? _Stupid ass boring movie_. Excellent suggestion, Wormtail. 

 

“Will you Return to the same place? Will James and—Peter?—know where to find you?”

 

“Usually I Jump home. It’s easiest to hold onto when I’m pulled back. James broke his cell phone but he can use Peter’s to call Mom or Dad.” Sirius turns his face skyward, curious to see if the star shapes here are the same as home. The moon hangs heavy but the night is starless, odd in a place deserted of light pollution. “Dad works from home today, I think.”

 

“Cell phone? Are those the, the, um, miniature talkers?”

 

Sirius turns his head, amusement climbing, and his chest tightens. Their noses nearly brush, they’re so close. Remus doesn’t just show embarrassment and uncertainty, he _allows_ it to be seen through the tight control he holds, trusts Sirius with this weakness. For once, Sirius holds in his teasing. “Have you seen telephones before? They hook into plugs, or walls, and usually have a curly cord.”

 

“With numbers on them,” Remus states proudly. Sirius curls his toes in and bites back a smile.

 

“Yeah. And everyone has their own, uh, set of seven numbers. We call them digits. You press in the digits of who you want to talk to and then you can talk to them through it. A cell phone is the same thing except it doesn’t need a plug, you can carry it around.” Sirius decides texting can be explained another time. Realizing he’s been staring at Remus’ lips through the whole explanation, he snaps his eyes up to Remus’, who looks thoughtful.

 

“Oh. That’s helpful.” Remus leans his body away from Sirius’ to push away his curls with both hands. The ringlets are pulled back in a ponytail, an angry one that wants to burst out of its hold. When leaning forward again, Remus moves his body sideways to face Sirius more, their legs now pressed in contact instead of their arms. He smiles. “I wish I could have one and we could exchange...digits.”

 

Sirius laughs at how Remus pronounces the last word with distaste. “Me too. Nothing stays, though.”

 

“Lucky we get our clothes,” Remus says. The statement’s absurdity hits them and they grin widely, pressing their knees into each other. Strange, talking about this whatever-it-is “condition” with someone who _understands_.

 

“Sometimes,” Sirius adds, and they both laugh and wince in sync, thinking about times they ended up somewhere naked. Jumps only take their bodies, clothes usually, but nothing else travels with them.

 

A hoard of bugs start making sounds all at once, not scared by his and Remus’ presence now that they went silent for several seconds after laughing, similar to how crickets act. They sound like crows cawing, only to a small but screeching pitch. It grates on Sirius’ nerves but Remus closes his eyes, his head hanging to the side as he presumably takes it in. 

 

Staying so, Remus says softly, “I like when I come across you. Then I know the world is safe.” The meaning sinks in. “Or, in the unlikely chance you Jump to somewhere not like here, I’ll still feel safe by your side.”

 

The chilly night fooled him from noticing the coldness beforehand and in four dramatic convulsions, Sirius Returns to his home. 

 

Only there, in the Potter’s backyard, does it hit him how Remus had kept Sirius’ mind busy in that potentially dangerous A.D., the night and bare open wilderness a weapon, a heart-pounding place to be immersed in even with someone you trust beside you.

 

Right before Dad comes bursting out the door to embrace him, it hits Sirius how he’s known Remus for over a year now and knows little of his experience. He had closed up and resolutely deflected questions in January. 

 

How long will he be stuck there, alone?

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sixth time Sirius meets Remus, he finds him slouched against the wall in an alley, cradling a busted up face. 

 

“Remus!” Remus flinches with his whole body. “What happened?” Sirius rushes to him, falling to his knees in a skid that tears up his acid wash jeans. Remus’ right eye is mostly swollen shut and his cheeks are red and scratched, lower lip cut up. 

 

“I’m okay, thanks for asking,” Remus rasps.

 

Sirius knocks his hand against Remus’ pulled up knee, playfully light. “I didn’t ask because you’re obviously not okay, you sarcastic ass.”

 

“It’s good to see you, Dog Star.”

 

“It’s not good to see you in this condition. Shit. Shit. What can—What can I do?” _Tell me what happened._

 

Remus takes a few moments. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Is the world safe? The A.D.?”

 

“Yeah—yes,” Sirius would say yes even if it wasn’t. He places a hand on Remus’ knee. “I think so. There’s, uh, there’s just a lot of couples walking down the street. A little too much and so smiley, if you ask me.”

 

“What?”

 

“What?”

 

“You sound embarrassed. What aren’t you saying?”

 

“Oh, uh, it’s—the couples are all, um, gay—or lesbian—or gay-lesbian looking.” Sirius flushes.

 

“That’s okay?”

 

“Yeah, no, it’s just, you don’t see that much where I live. That’s,” he draws out the pause between words, “people hide that. But no. I’m fine. Just strange.”

 

Remus’ head falls to the side. “You’re funny,” he slurs. He says something indecipherable that starts with a _C,_ rapidly becoming incoherent.

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sirius says, definitely not freaking out. “Okay, let’s get you, um, okay, here I’m going to,” he slides his arm behind Remus, getting a hold of his waist, and he doesn’t know if he should be worried or complimented that Remus doesn’t flinch away, “and then I’ll just—” Sirius gives up on speaking and helps Remus to stand up, supporting all of his weight.

 

It’s an effort, a huge effort, and the greatest deception Sirius has pulled off, but he half-carries Remus down the street with his condition unnoticed by people. He leads them through the shadows and makes them look like a couple, like Remus is overly affectionate in leaning into Sirius. Bringing him into a store’s bathroom is the best Sirius can do, positioning Remus against a wall again, locking the door. 

 

No scanners guard the bathroom door to check for stolen items and Sirius easily swipes materials off the shelves out of the video camera’s view. He’s not medically intelligent like Remus but he knows someone with a concussion—which he’ll safely assume Remus has—shouldn’t sleep and he gently prods Remus into staying awake by demanding he tell Sirius what happened.

 

Sirius focuses all his energy on disinfecting cuts and gently smoothing on bandaids because the story throws him into a rage that begs to be taken out on somebody or something. It’s ironic—Remus Traveling from a world where he is beaten up for being gay to one where all sexuality is warmly accepted. 

 

“I was just sp-spacing out but a-apparently I was ‘checking out’ one and sexy giving eyes, I said ’s little gay calling me sexy and, and so I’m not gay, everyone I like, no preference really, so the joke is on _them_ ,” Remus says nonsensically, several minutes after he had finished the original story, with a prideful tone.

 

Sirius picks up the frozen unknown-vegetable bag and timidly presses it to Remus’ cheek. 

 

“That’s cold,” Remus says.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s the point.”

 

“Hold for me? My hands don’t work.”

 

“Of course.” Sirius applies more pressure, shifting his body forward and holding Remus’ neck with his other hand to stabilize pressing the make-shift ice pack. Remus’ arms more than work and Sirius allows a small smile on his face, one entirely too fond. He stares into the sleepy yellow-green petals in Remus’ eyes, feeling the smoothness of Remus’ neck, how it’s pleasantly warm and somehow like a hug with his hand cupped around the side of it. He wonders if spooning someone at night feels like this. 

 

Remus is in and out of it but for Sirius, the air is charged with their closeness. He takes a moment to breathe away the jitters.

 

He nudges Remus to keep on talking, though in the back of his mind he thinks about how the question is answered: Remus is not-straight.

 

~

 

Remus regains full coherency in two hours and he finds them an abandoned house that several exhausted, mildly smelly people share. A sympathetic older man lends his sleeping bag to Remus, who stubbornly refuses, but Sirius glares him down and accepts it graciously from the man. Sirius frets every minute about Returning home and abandoning Remus here in such a state. He knows Remus fought off the two burly homophobic men off well in the last A.D. and could still do a fair job even now, but he can’t go on living not knowing that Remus is safe if the Jump comes early. 

 

But it never happens.

 

Sirius stays there for three days.

 

Three days. 

 

Without Remus, he’d be panicking. The Potters surely are, and for that, he feels guilty. 

 

The older man and other people say nothing when the next night they show up with shiny brand new sleeping bags, freshly stolen from the racks. 

 

Pretending to be together shows to be the easiest cover, holding hands, and coming up with stories on how they became a _we_. Sirius loves story-telling—“we met in Barcelona” “he _hates_ vanilla and I couldn’t stay silent any longer” “he kissed me first in a lighthouse”—and Remus is braver physically, even kissing Sirius’ cheek _six_ times. Sometimes a harsh press, sometimes a light tap, other time a brush across, lips dragging.

 

Finally, finally, finally, he learns about Remus. Remus, who has Traveled his whole life. Remus, who doesn’t remember a family, who doesn’t know how old he is. Remus, who can last in an A.D. for a year at most but a few days on average, though tracking time is a difficult concept when passing through dimension after dimension, never Returning, always Traveling, no coming-back-to spot.

 

Remus chuckles a groan late on the third night, covering his face with his hands for a few seconds before reappearing. When the silky darkness descends, when they should and need to sleep, this is when the words flow freely, when their foundation grows, strengthening during their sleep afterwards. “I was stuck the longest in this one world _forever_ ,” Remus whispers. “I was little so maybe it just felt like that. But I was in—does your A.D. have Rome? Oh, yes, so I was there and it was more, er, medieval I think your worlds call it, but there was this library. This enormous,” he breathes the word, “library. I spent all my days there, in this dark and cool corner and I read and read and read until my brain hurt and read some more. I wasn’t good with _speaking_  languages or learning the correct accents back then so all the other children teased and threw stones at me for being different. Books were, and are, my friends. That’s where my name comes from.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Remus flushes, not as amazing as a rosy blush, but Sirius loves it. “Well I have no family or origin I remember, so I had no name.”

 

“Oh my god,” Sirius gasps, horrified. “You actually chose the name Remus Lupin?”

 

“Shut up!” Remus shoves Sirius, relaxed and at ease. Spending every second together has sewn them into a shining friendship. Oh, to be homesick for his true home but already homesick for Remus in his presence, knowing they’ll part ways for months soon. “I saw a gorgeous wolf once and Remus is less of a mouthful than Romulus.”

 

“Very good reasoning for a name,” Sirius says gruffly, nodding his head seriously. Remus sticks out his tongue. “Isn’t he the one who dies?”

 

“Oh, cut back your criticism, Dog Star.”

 

“Okay, Wolf Boy. Wait, why did you add Lupin then? Oh, that makes it so much worse!”

 

“I thought it was clever! I even took off the E of lupine, like that made it more subtle.”

 

Sirius receives an elbow in the ribs for how long and hysterical he laughs. Time dances at night and so he doesn’t know how much later it is when Remus snores and Sirius shakes him awake, pointing to the full moon outside the window.

 

“Aren’t you going to howl?” he whispers.

 

“I hate you,” Remus mumbles back, the heat in the words completely lost in how warmly sleepy he is.

 

“If Romulus got Rome then it’s only fair you get something else. You should have the moon, that’ll really show him.”

 

“That doesn’t—you know I’m,” Remus yawns, “not even _the_ Remus right?”

 

Sirius ignores him. “Moon, moon, moon, for Remus,” he sings, maybe a touch sleep-deprived. “Wolf boy, Wolfy, the moony for him.”

 

“The moony?”

 

“I said moon.”

 

“No,” Remus smiles a smile that is silent laughter, “you said moony.”

 

“Fine. Moony it is then. That’s your new name.”

 

“Okay, Dog Star.”

 

“It is! Moony now and forever.”

 

“Shut up and sleep you lovebirds,” someone hisses across the room. 

 

They giggle, huddle close, and fall asleep. 

 

Sirius says _goodnight, Moony,_ and wakes up alone, cold, and to a relieved-crying James.

 

From then on, Sirius loves and hates the moon, mainly in its full form, for hanging so beautifully above where Sirius can never reach it, gifting his heart sweet memories that created holes rather than filling the ones already there inside his beating organ.

 

  

* * *

 

 

“Sirius?” An accent coats the rough voice but Sirius will always know it, even if his name isn't spoken. Disappointment and frustration replace the familiar relief and burning joy when seeing Remus. 

 

The chill already started sweeping over Sirius, he’s only been here a handful of minutes or so. Words stick in his throat—he’s in broad daylight where anyone can see him disappear. Not a problem for him, but now with Remus running to him—Remus can be in danger, pressed by people to know what happened to Sirius. 

 

Remus’ face twists into something and back to its normal state, hard for Sirius to interpret from a distance, but he yanks Sirius by the elbow once he reaches him, pulling and pushing him up against a shadowed building wall. 

 

Sirius squeaks. 

 

“You’re going,” Remus says, burrowing his face in Sirius’ neck, halfway on the left of Sirius’ jaw.

 

Sirius starts to squeak out, “Yeah, uh, what, what are you doing?”

 

“Saving our—my—asses from being discovered. PDA makes people uncomfortable and advert their eyes, especially same-sex, no one will notice you disappear. And I’m covering you, too.” Sirius hardly understands it, Remus speaks so fast. “How long do you have?”

 

“Uh,” _Remus’ body is flush against his—Remus’—Body Is—Pressed—Against—Him,_ “soon, very soon. This _sucks._ Fuck, why can’t we bring each other things?”

 

“It’s okay, Dog Star.”

 

Sirius frowns. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

 

“I, I just, I—you’re leaving already.”

 

Attempting to hold in the seizure-like spasms and failing, Sirius grunts out between jerks, “Well, this will make it more convincing.”

 

He succeeds in drawing a laugh from Remus. Remus pushes Sirius harder into the wall, either to make the act look more convincing or to lessen the passionate spasms. 

 

“D-don’t worry, M-m-moony, I’m gonna f-find you,” Sirius says, falling away, offering a goodbye smirk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Holy shit!” 

 

“Sirius,” James bursts into the living room, “what happened? Were you okay?” He runs to Sirius, patting him down, unfazed by Sirius’ nudity. Rest in piece to Sirius’ banging outfit left behind at that lovely dimension. 

 

“I’m fine, argh, James! Lay off,” Sirius grumbles, pushing him away. “But. Oh my god. Holy shit. I don’t—James—it’s—I’m, I’m,” the words sink down in his throat.

 

“What? Was Remus there?”

 

“No,” Sirius needs to keep his mind off that downer, “I Jumped to a club.” James sits on the living room couch. “A gay club, James!”

 

“…So? What’s it different from the clubs we sneak into?” The _one_ they had snuck into _once_ and promptly were kicked out of. 

 

“Because it was gay! It was, I saw men kissing.”

 

James pushes his glasses up his nose, something he does when he has nothing to say, and blinks at Sirius like a fucking idiot, black hair standing up to attention, unlike his brain. So he can memorize every Pokémon but can’t understand this simple implication?

 

“I’M GAY, JAMES!” Sirius finally shouts. “I liked it, I finally understand all the fuss, oh my god, James, wow,” Sirius sits down on the floor and fans himself. “I mean I always kinda—but I didn’t know-know—and woah. Wow.”

 

To Sirius’ indignation, James says nothing for several, several silent seconds and then bursts into laughter, sliding off the couch. “Yeah,” he wheezes, “it’s blindingly obvious, you asshole. Oh, we have to call Pete! He’s going to be _pissed_ that he missed this.”

 

Sirius scowls. “Shut up. This is my time.” He places his hands behind his hips on the floor and leans back. Is it true? Is it plain as day that he’s gay? Why the fuck didn’t someone tell him? Well, there was— “Oh my god. Benjy?”

 

James grins wickedly. “You stupid flirt. You’re lucky he wasn’t offended from you blindly leading him on.”

 

Sirius groans, covering his eyes. 

 

“Also,” James coughs dramatically, “Remus.”

 

“Shut up! It’s not like that.”

 

“Pads, sometimes you’re dumb as a rock.”

 

“Fuck off, we’re friends.” Sirius uncovers his face. “Just friends.” He looks back at his brother and sticks out his tongue. “And I’m not gay for every man I see, you stupid straight.”

 

“Oh god, you’re going to be insufferable aren’t you?”

 

“You saying I’m not already?”

 

“Good point. I get to tell Mom and Dad first!” James scrambles off the floor and Sirius shouts _hey!,_ swiping for James’ ankle but missing. Foregoing getting dressed, Sirius chases after James, trying to shout over his screams to their parents.

 

~

 

Sirius, James, and Peter talk and think and talk and think, and search and search and search the internet. They’ve built complicated robots that spat out nasty phrases and released them into their school. Sirius and Peter made the most enormous fake volcano and wheeled it under the bleachers during James’ big soccer game, setting it off right when James scored a goal, exploding nasty red foam and shit over everyone. The school wordlessly put all of them in the advanced classes, some of which were in the grades above them. They up the ante of their pranks each time they do one, sometimes evading detention simply by impressing their principal with the prank’s complexity. 

 

Simply put, they get shit done and far exceed expectations, academically and stupidity wise—idiocy helps to see the short distance solutions that make anything possible, if not insane.

 

Now, for the first time, they are truly stumped. Besides stopping a Jump, the word impossible never existed in their vocabulary. They know they can do this, the answer tickles their noses, on the cusp of their tongue.

 

“Shove a letter up your ass,” James says, lifting his upside-down head to be heard. He pushes himself headfirst, on his back, down the children’s slide with a small _wee!_. Ten o’clock at night leaves them with an empty park. The party they ditched rages a few houses down, sharp high-pitched and low-pitched giggles an oddly calming white noise. 

 

Sirius flips James off from the seesaw. 

 

“Put it in your mouth,” Peter says, sitting underneath the monkey bars after slipping off a bar spectacularly ten minutes ago. “What? If it’s in you, it might stay.” He shrugs.

 

“Wormy,” Sirius pauses, _to sigh or to groan?_ “I’m just going to pretend your lack of fucking wit is because you’re high and not because it’s your natural personality.”

 

“Are you contagious? My body is numb. Am I still here?” Peter’s words are barely made out as he lies down on his stomach.

 

James stays on the slide, his legs propped upwards and his head dangling off the end. “I call dibs on shoving something up your ass.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius hacks up the fat letter—James, Peter, and Dad insisted on writing a small bit to say. Falling to his knees in the hot sand, he bends over and coughs, clutching the grossly wet envelope to his chest.

 

“How come we tend to be injured whenever we meet? Not so much of a human luck charm, I’d say.”

 

Sirius sits back on his ass and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, hoping it takes away all the spit. Remus waves, so dorky it makes Sirius _ache_ oddly, next to a cactus in this seemingly deserted desert. Remus wears little clothing, wherever he came from has a…unique fashion sense. The sweat soaked shirt does little to help how see-through it is. _His nipples are so big_. Sirius twitches. _What a weird fucking thought. Get yourself to-fucking-gether._

 

“Moony!” Sirius waves the letter at him. “Look!”

 

“Uh?” 

 

Sirius scrambles on his knees, stopping once his they knock with Remus’ knees, sitting crisscrossed. “We did it! Wormy and Prongs, we, we’ve been thinking and it worked! I _brought_ something.” Forgetting how spit covered it is, Sirius drops the letter on Remus’ fishnet-like pants. 

 

For a long time, Remus says nothing. Hesitantly, he picks it up, his nose wrinkling for a brief second at the wetness. “Is this,” he gapes at Sirius, “you brought me a letter?”

 

“Well, duh. Of course I did, Moony. But I carried something with me! Isn’t that incredible! I put it in my mouth and—”

 

Remus ignores him, instead gingerly opening the letter sealed shut with a Spongebob sticker. The first paper is a shitty drawing of a wolf surrounded by a rat, stag, and dog. _Greetings Remus!_ Peter wrote at the bottom, which Sirius had scowled at. Wormtail insisted it wasn’t mocking like _Greetings earthling_ from an alien but Sirius gave him the cold shoulder for a whole thirty minutes after.

 

“Peter made me something?” Remus’ eyes never leave the paper. 

 

“I actually wrote a fucking actual letter though,” Sirius says, leaning forward. If Remus won’t look at him, Sirius can at least be closer. “Everyone wants to say hi. James and Dad, too. Mom’s been busy and hadn’t finished hers.”

 

Light stubble runs down Remus’ cheeks, not patchy like Sirius and Peter got when they tried growing beards. His face is so smooth, not a blemish, even up this close. A small gap splits Remus’ left eyebrow, a new faded scar possibly running through it.

 

“This is, it’s,” Remus cuts himself off and tears his gaze away. His accent from last time is gone. He reaches out and grasps Sirius’ right hand. It’s a little wet and he doesn’t let go. All Sirius can focus on is how long Remus’ eyelashes are. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Tell them thank you from me, too. This is—you’re incredible, you know that?”

 

Sirius tells himself his hot cheeks are coming from the desert sun intent on toasting them. To turn the tables, he says, “ _You’re_ incredible. We figure you can’t keep it, that we can _bring_ but not _take_ from A.D.s.” Sirius swipes at the bangs he’s growing out, hoping to come across as intelligent. “I want you to have something if I leave fast. You deserve it.”

 

Remus’ skin tanned considerably since Sirius last saw him and it hides the blush a little but he goes beet red underneath it. Sirius saves his internal whoops for when he Returns, knowing he’ll jump and swing James around going on about this magnificent moment. Fucking fuck, he missed blushing Moony. 

 

“Is it okay if I read them now?”

 

“Go for it,” Sirius says, pretending he’s not panicking over whatever James could have written and that he himself wrote a fairly sappy letter. But there’s the chance Remus will Travel first and never read it, and Sirius can never say no to his Moony.

 

The experience is a little spiritual, watching Remus laugh and cry and smile and grin and suck on his upper lip, holding Sirius’ hand all the while, squeezing now and then unconsciously, with the sun beating down his back, turning him as uncomfortably hot as his insides blossomed to be. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, we have this funny guy who is, like, the head of state or something or whatever. He’s been in movies and has a funny voice like this,” Sirius imitates it and Remus laughs, which is fantastic because Sirius’ impression is shit. But Remus doesn’t have to know that. “This city we live near started marrying same-sex which we don’t have because there’s this shitty guy who runs our country and discriminates against us and bans marriage and whatever. Later the city got banned for it but that was,” Sirius waves his hand, “months ago. But Funny Voice Man supports gay rights, so that’s cool.”

 

Remus stares at Sirius and he assumes Remus takes his time soaking in the information. He always yearns to know everything, to learn all about Sirius’ world as much as he wants to know all about Sirius. But then he opens his mouth, closes it, and a slow, wide smile spreads across his face. “Us,” he says.

 

“What?”

 

“You said us. Discriminate against _us_.” Remus’ smirk is a deadly thing, revealing a dimple.

 

“Oh.” Sirius bites his tongue. The mini Siriuses in his head scream and sprint around in circles, setting each other on fire. “Uh, yeah. Um. I, uh, decided I’m—gay?”

 

“Decided?” Remus lightly kicks Sirius’ toes with his own. They’re sitting with their feet stretched out on a soccer field. Sirius’ clothes Jumped with him except for his shoes, strangely, and Remus took his own off in solidarity.

 

“Oh fuck off, I’m gay, always been, alright, I like men.” _And I like you most of all, my Moon_.

 

“Alright then.” Sirius isn’t sure if he’s relieved at the subject dropping or disappointed Remus hasn’t lunged forth and smooched Sirius to death. “So, tell me some lines from this infamous movie Peter found a…bootleg? Of.”

 

Sirius adores when Remus tests out lingo he has never heard from Sirius’. A.D. “Lily bought it actually. Not such a goody-goody after all—”

 

“I thought Lily hated you all.”

 

“Eh.” Sirius shrugs. “James made Lily another mix CD and she snapped it in front of him.” Remus clucks his tongue with sympathy. “James cried all night, he spent hours choosing the music and figuring out the order of the songs. So, like the noble Knight I am, I corner her the next morning and tell her off for being such a—uh, nasty woman,” Remus laughs, “and James yells at me for embarrassing him but Lily felt so bad about it that now their partners for the chemistry project.” Sirius grins triumphantly. “It’s prime school gossip right now. She’s hung out at the house a few times. Mom likes her.”

 

“Is she ‘ice cold’ for shizzle?” Sirius groans and covers his face with his hands. “Does she ‘shake it like a Polaroid picture’? Hella sass master?”

 

Sirius’ stifled laughter is held in prison no longer, bursting out of him as he uncovers his face and wipes at his eyes. Beaming triumphantly, Remus leans back on his hands and slides his leg between Sirius’, tapping his foot rhythmically against Sirius’ thigh. “See, I’d fit right into your world.”

 

“Totally,” Sirius says, breathless. The image of Remus hand in hand with him at school sucker punches him in the stomach. _“I’d fit right into your world”._

 

This Jump, Remus’ hair is shorter and pulled up in an adorable, messy bun. He keeps blowing out breaths of air to move curly ringlets out of his eyes, basically useless as they come back instantly. Bravely, Sirius had leaned forward and pushed one back a few minutes ago. A strand blows across Remus' face as he waits expectantly for Sirius to go on as if the sentence he had jokingly said hasn’t rendered Sirius speechless. “Um, but as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted—no manners, I swear—I can recite the whole movie, probably. It’s a stupid, but a good stupid, you know?”

 

“I know a good stupid,” Remus says, his smile kind and sure, his foot wiggling against Sirius’ thigh again.

 

Sirius bites his lip. “I think you’d like it.”

 

“I’m sure I would,” Remus’ voice dips lower.

 

_Fuck it._ Licking his lips, like Wormy had told him, Sirius stares deeply into Remus’ eyes, ducking his head slightly. Remus holds the eye contact for ten seconds before looking away, blushing. 

 

_That’s what you get for flirty banter_. Sirius stops torturing him, for now, and says, “Tina, you fat lard, come get some dinner!”

 

Without any context, the suddenness of no transition, and being mildly shouted at, it’s even funnier and Remus falls back slightly in surprise. This time he’s the one breaking apart with laughter.

 

Sirius remembers this moment for as long as he lives, not only because of the niceness of this Jump but because it’s the first time Remus swears. Between giggles, _What the fuck?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Whatever A.D. Remus came from, the air there mixes with something similar to semi-permanent laughing gas. They’ve been together for an hour and the giggly behavior has yet to cease. 

 

It’s motherfucking magical. 

 

And contagious. Sirius blames the impulsivity on the induced mania because somehow they are getting tattoos. Shitty, sketchy ass back alley tattoos—Remus’ idea when Sirius announced he’s a man now, newly turned eighteen. Remus’ gift to Sirius, _“So you can always have a piece of me with you, know that I’m real.”_

 

Please, someone, hire a hitman on Sirius. This is the best day of his life.

 

“We’re not drunk, we swear,” Sirius says. Remus pushes himself into Sirius from behind, and fuck isn’t that wonderful, stifling giggles into Sirius’ shoulder. “You want to smell my breath?” The sarcasm is mediocre at best but Sirius’ back vibrates with Remus’ silent laughter and it eggs him on. “Or do you prefer my asshole? You can pour the vodka right up there if you get desperate enough, you know.” Sirius has no fucking clue how he stays standing and doesn’t crumple to the floor because Remus buries his face into Sirius’ neck, hot breaths of poorly hidden giggles, almost nuzzling.

 

The tattoo artist eyes them some more. Honestly, what kind of bullshit judgement is this? The dude’s giving them tattoos without seeing any I.D. in a shady ass back alley garage. “Whatever,” he sighs. “Who’s first?”

 

“Me!” Remus pushes off of Sirius, much to Sirius’ dismay. “Well, actually, him first but I’m choosing his tattoo.” This unfiltered, energetic Remus fills Sirius with delightful heat. Remus deserves to feel this free from troubles always, to have giggly nights often.

 

“You got the cash?”

 

Remus pulls the fat wad of cash from his pocket, belonging to a letter previously in Sirius’ mouth from Mom, and the artist stares at it for a moment before taking it, his attitude brightening. “Follow me, lads.” He leads them farther into the back of the garage. Sirius and Remus raise their eyebrows and mouth silently in unison _lads_ , not at all concerned about being led to their deaths or something equally horror movie-like.  It’s dimly lit with flickering lights a shade of reddish pink.

 

“You sit here,” the artist instructs Sirius, gesturing to a black leather chair. He turns to Remus. “What’s the tattoo gonna be?”

 

“It’s a secret. Can I tell you over here?”

 

They step away and Remus cups his hands over his mouth, whispering into the artist’s ear. Ugliness coats Sirius’ mood. They don’t need to get that close to each other.

 

He feels far better when Remus bounds back over to him. “No looking,” he says sternly. “It’s going to be on your forearm,” he takes Sirius’ left hand, tracing his finger over a patch of skin a few inches up from Sirius’ wrist, “right here.” Remus’ finger lingers and—Sirius—will—die. A magnificent death he will gladly accept. Remus’ fingernail scrapes slightly in a tickle.

 

The artist grumbles something under his breath that Sirius doesn’t catch. Remus, however, must have because he ducks his head, removing his hands and becoming interested in his fingernails. Sirius can practically feel the warmth radiating off Remus’ cheeks. On one hand—fucking magnificent and adorable. On the other hand—Sirius hadn’t caused the blush.

 

He yelps at first but the pain is tolerable. He grits his teeth until Remus comes around the other side and takes his hand. 

 

“You can squeeze harder,” Remus says. 

 

Sirius hesitates, but this is Remus. Remus, who calms him and makes his heart flutter pleasantly and who he enjoys embarrassing himself in front of for laughs. He clutches Remus’ hand and Remus beams at him, despite his fingers turning white.

 

He fears Jumping in the middle of this or Remus “Traveling” before it’s finished. The artist says his tattoo is small and that reassures him a little bit, even if that still means it takes roughly an hour. Spending the time thinking what he will choose for Remus, he comes up with an idea, but he wants it to be large—hours the universe hardly grants them. If only another artist worked here so they could be tattooed simultaneously. Is it worth it for Remus to get his tattoo done bit by bit every time they meet up if Sirius Jumps soon?

 

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Remus whispers, a curly strand falling across his face.

 

“Me, too.” Sirius grins, wincing slightly from the pain.

 

“You two are gross,” the artist says.

 

_Piss off_ pushes at the inside of Sirius’ mouth, but Remus squeezes his hand and Sirius holds it in. The guy blabbers about aftercare as he tattoos and Sirius tells him, kindly, to stuff it and he’ll look it up on the internet later. Remus rolls his eyes—fondly, Sirius hopes—and tells him to go on, because he’d like to hear.

 

By the time it’s done, Sirius figures out a plan for Remus to get the idea outlined and then next time they can color it in more, or Remus can do it alone where he Travels next. The artist raises an eyebrow but approves it. It takes time to describe, which sends icy anxiety through Sirius’ veins and he keeps mistaking it for the Jump coming. 

 

Remus laughs, his cheeks rosy, when Sirius tells him the tattoo will be on his upper thigh. 

 

Like up-up-upper thigh.

 

From his right hip down to his right sidebutt. 

 

Sirius hates himself for choosing this spot once he stupidly realizes the artist gets to see this sacred stretch of Remus’ skin but he can’t change his mind now without a decent explanation. 

 

Returning the favor, Sirius holds Remus’ hand throughout it, even though Remus flinches maybe once and merely holds Sirius’ hand, almost limply so. It takes longer than Sirius’, almost double the time, but they feel more comfortable to talk in the artist’s presence this time around. They play the would-you-rather game and Sirius is outraged to find Remus would rather be eaten by a shark than swallowed by a whale.

 

Sirius watches the process idly throughout and is fucking proud as fuck of his idea.

 

They thank the artist when it’s all done and over and he says, “Whatever,” but Sirius suspects that they have grown on him by now. The air is nippy when they exit the garage and the night twinkles around them.

 

“It’s fucking cold as nipples,” Sirius says and Remus snorts with laughter. A smile dances onto Sirius’ face. “What?”

 

“You said it so matter-of-factly. What does that even mean?”

 

“Cold as nipples. My nipples are hard and I bet yours are, too. Cold—as—nipples.”

 

Remus reaches out, touching and feeling Sirius’ pecs, like it’s the natural next thing to do, and laughing once he finds Sirius’ nipples. He drops his hand. “I guess so.”

 

Sirius snaps his jaw shut, saving that moment to obsess over later, savoring the phantom feel of Remus’ hands over his shirt. “You’re insane.”

 

“Maybe so.” Remus sticks his tongue out and skips ahead in the empty cobblestone street, coming to a stop under a street lamp. He waits for Sirius, illuminated in a yellow glow, happy, carefree, almost rocking on his feet. Beautiful. 

 

They argue over if they should take off the bandage over their tattoos or not—whether the bandage will stay on through the Jump and if they should hope so and keep it on or just take it off. Sirius ends the argument by ripping his bandage off. 

 

A small cat stares at him, needled on to look as if it nuzzles his arm. He’s speechless.

 

Remus can’t stand still now that it’s revealed. At first, Sirius mistakes it for nervousness but Remus is shifting his weight in excitement, walking a few paces up and down. He waves his hands emphatically with no purpose. “So, it’s a cat you see, because you love dogs and your star, so obviously I have to do the opposite—”

 

“Obviously,” Sirius interjects, the smile in his voice diminishing any and all sarcasm.

 

“—but, but, but you know how I love Roman history, well not love, just got stuck in that dimension for ages, really. And in Roman mythology, they have this goddess, Diana, right? And she’s associated with cats and she’s the goddess of nature and the hunt and—get this—the moon.” Remus finally stilled and then burst out like a starfish. “You get it! Because your nickname for me, Moony, so I’m always with you, but no one will really know but us, and you can see me all the time, a very visible placing.”

 

And because Sirius is Sirius, he has to ruin the romanticism he so desperately wants by saying, “So basically you want me to always remember that you’re an asshole.”

 

Remus saves the day with, “But I’m your asshole.” He grins a cheeky grin. “Okay, my turn?”

 

He spares no glance around them as he pulls his pants down the side and carefully takes off the bandage. Sirius clears his throat and flushes.

 

Remus freezes, looks up to Sirius, eyebrows knitted together, looks down to the tattoo, up to Sirius, down to the tattoo, up to Sirius—

 

“A mermaid?” It’s a tiny whisper.

 

The rationalization Sirius prepped in his head shrivels up on his tongue. “Um,” he swallows, “well you...you don’t think you’re real and you worry so much about what is this and what are you, what are we, how you don’t exist, that nothing, nothing is real.”  Sirius finds his foothold and steps closer to Remus, remembering how emotionally painful it is hearing these casual confessions made by Remus. Last Jump, Remus trusted Sirius with a few strange dimensions, giving Sirius this idea. “But you went to a dimension where there were mermaids. Mermaids, Remus! Something that everyone thinks is impossible or silly, unrealistic and a fairytale. But you saw them with your own two eyes, spent three days with them, chatted with them. They—are—real.” Stepping closer still, he places a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “People don’t know we exist. They don’t think you are real. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t.” He applies slight pressure, whispering fervently, “You’re real, Remus.”

 

If he moves his fingers over and up, Sirius can feel Remus’ heartbeat, will find out if its wild like his own. He keeps his hand on Remus’ shoulder, not checking, but he takes in Remus’ chest barely rising before it falls, rapidly so. A sheen shines in Remus’ eyes and Sirius drops his hand, stepping back to allow him space. 

 

Roughly, Remus says, “I love it.” He closes his eyes and his breathing becomes unnaturally controlled as he focuses on slowing it down and becoming even. Sirius had no idea the mermaid would mean so much and his stomach tightens, knowing he has provided a comfort for the man he adores. “There’s this dimension,” Remus swallows, breathes, opens his eyes, “I went to and they had old—this old, romantic music and there was this one I really liked. Oh,” Remus says and sighs, pulling his pants up. The intimacy has switched from rawness to a less vulnerable sweetness, less fragile but softer somehow, gentle, more connected to Sirius, pulling him forth by the cliché invisible string connecting their hearts. “I don’t know what it means but something about it reminded me of you.” He hooks his right elbow with Sirius’ and starts swinging them around in a slow, walking circle. It’s not dancing, but it’s close enough.

 

“How did it go?” Sirius asks, picking the pace up. “The tune?”

 

“Uh. D-duh duh duh,” Remus repeats, butchering whatever it is, but somewhere in there, Sirius finds it, and how can Remus not know the one language Sirius does, how can it be that Remus knows this song, perhaps other A.D.s share it or perhaps the universe brought Remus to Sirius’ origins.

 

And _oh_ , he thinks of Sirius with this song? 

 

Sirius doesn’t have the heart to tell Remus how much he despises his first language, how it stings to speak, not with how happy Remus is, not with how affectionate this song is, not with this night.

 

Sirius sings it in English.

 

It’s a slow song but they are young and silly and believe they have all the time before them, that their options together are limitless and this night speaks to them of that notion—so they don’t go slow, they go fast, wild, swinging by their elbows faster and faster, laughing and stumbling, and seeing a blur they both feel.

 

Sirius leaves first, still laughing as he falls onto the Potter driveway, still half-singing the lyric  _this magical spell you cast._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tw: 2) the third time Sirius and Remus meet, Sirius (when observing Remus) reminisces two short sentences on bullies at his school who ask people to pull down their pants
> 
> * Remus is worried about tattoo aftercare bc he’s always Traveling, it won’t be fun nor easy trying to take care of it if he comes into a very non-earthy dimension of our universe  
> — poor Remus, falling harshly to the ground when Sirius Returns home
> 
> *I don't write down the month of each Jump because time is a vague concept in their lives and I want to reflect that. If it confuses you, I'm more than happy to put the month to each scene if it helps : )
> 
> *Sirius' universe is mostly the one we live in, set in America around West Coast. There will be small differences here and there. In the first scene, Remus had recently come from a progressive universe where pronouns and LGBTQIA+ rights were way ahead. Sirius, being from 2003 and scared as a teen of the implications of being gay, didn't know anything like being asked pronouns
> 
> *details on Jumping, Traveling, and their origins are skimmed over and will be going into detail next chapter
> 
> *shoutout/credit given to croatoanmary for her dream on the squid comment & being the best cheerleader ~ ~
> 
> *tell me if I should have warned about something! This brings us up to Part Two: the little babies of this chapter are going to be growing up
> 
> *they have met **ten** times
> 
> Thank you for reading!! you can find me on tumblr here [siriuslysarcasticremus](https://siriuslysarcasticremus.tumblr.com/)  
> : )


	3. Part Two: when you kiss me heaven sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2005
> 
> young puppy love can overshadow anything—both good and bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no major tw! two small bits: no violence but two scars are shown, not detailed; past child abuse is implied
> 
> this was supposed to cover 2005-2008, but apparently 2005's story needed more words ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

_2005_

* * *

 

Five, nearly six, goddamn months flip by before Sirius sees Remus again and he spends the days agonizing over what a coward he is and had been, how glaringly obvious that was _THE_ night. It had been the perfect chance to make a move. _THE_ move. Sirius isn’t exactly sure what move that is but he’s sure he should have made it. At least hinted at it. 

 

He and Remus haven’t kissed since two years ago when Sirius almost drowned and Sirius decided that this is not okay _._ Especially since he doesn’t remember it! 

 

When the chill finally comes, instead of whispering _it’s happening,_ Sirius says to James, _I’M GONNA DO IT._ Peter shouts something encouraging but Sirius already runs out the classroom door, ears whooshing with blood beating like drums. Later, he’ll learn James covered for him by telling their entire Physics class that Sirius was taking a giant shit after a week-long constipation. 

 

“Thank god,” Sirius says when he arrives, stumbling with wobbly knees, and sees Remus walking down the small street, staring at the ground in an offended manner that’s so terribly endearing. His hair pulled back in an angry ponytail and tendrils fall out, more than normal but achingly adorable after all this time. It’s morning here, an orange glow to the day, and Sirius strides forward, sprints even. “Remus,” he calls a few seconds before he reaches, so as not to startle the beautiful boy. When Remus’ head shoots up, Sirius skids to a stop and grabs Remus’ face. 

 

He leans down, pressing his kiss intently, firmly, _urgently_ to Remus’ lips and the seconds tick and tick and tick and then Remus gasps and tilts his head, going on his tiptoes and grabbing a fistful of Sirius’ hair.

 

And _fuck,_ does he sure show Sirius how to kiss. 

 

All Peter’s tips fly right out of his head—he never spared a listen for James’ advice—but the embarrassment he feared for weeks dissipates. The skin of comfortability and safety slips back over in Remus’ presence.

 

Pulling back as a person wolf-whistles at them, Sirius’ eyes zero in on Remus’ red, spit-slick lips. They move and form words he doesn’t hear.

 

A thought strikes Sirius and he looks away, removing and pressing his hands, palms flat, against his jeans. “That was okay,” he bites and releases his own lip, “right?”

 

Remus laughs. “Yes, yes, more than yes. Maybe ask next time first, though?”

 

Sirius flushes, but Remus cups Sirius’ cheek with a hand and presses a soft, short kiss to Sirius’ lips. He guides Sirius’ face to turn back to him, locking him in with those soft brown eyes. “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you more,” Sirius blurts, marveling when Remus laughs and presses his head forward against Sirius’, their noses touching. 

 

They should talk, there’s so much missed, and Remus looks dead-beat, but they spend the forty-minutes with much less chatting than usual. It’s not the passionate grossness he’s witnessed Peter go at it with his girlfriends and it’s not the quiet kissing James snuck off to do with his one girlfriend back in sophomore year.

 

They just wander, walking through the quaint village, saying random words and being unable to stop from leaning forward and pressing a flat kiss to the other’s lips for a few seconds before saying _go on._ _Go on, go on, go on._ They keep interrupting with little kisses or their little kisses keep getting interrupted by words.

 

Sirius wonders if this is strange that they haven’t found a corner to forget all words but it feels so them and he’s still quite scared with kissing, though he will never say it. Remus surely senses it, anyway. 

 

Sirius adores it, he thinks he can adore anything with Remus, but he has no urgency to go further, almost doesn’t want to. 

 

Is that crazy? With how little time they have, with the uncertainty of when they will be together next?

 

Remus leaves first this time and he wraps an arm around Sirius’ waist, pushing him against a wall and moving his lips against Sirius’, drawing him into responding, and all Sirius can think of in a blessed daze is how hot—in the warm temperature sense—Remus’ lips are before Remus fades away.

 

  

* * *

 

 

After that, Sirius makes it a priority to always keep a letter on him in case he Jumps. He wants a guarantee that Remus knows how much he adores him. He replaces the letter in his pocket, sometimes daily, writing more and more and liking this new one better than the last, using it as an outlet for the doting-upon-his-Moony urges. 

 

The urge grows impossibly strong when he visits Remus next, only a few—a few!—weeks later.

 

“Moony,” Sirius says, attempting to snatch the letter from Remus’ hands, only for Remus to clutch it to his chest possessively. “Why are you crying?” Sirius demands, ready to rip the letter apart or fight anyone who has ever so much as glanced wrong in Remus’ direction.

 

Small disappointment settles in Sirius’ stomach when Remus rubs his eyes before Sirius can lean forward and wipe away the tears in a loving gesture. 

 

“S-sorry. I just keep trying to bring things w-with me, letters and stuff, and it never works.” Remus rubs his eyes again, harsher this time. “It n-n-never works.”

 

Sirius’ insides fall apart like a poor whimpering puppy. “Moony, that’s okay. I don’t need letters.” _I need you._ This statement will only make his Moony sadder, something all the universes do far too good of a job on their own, so Sirius keeps it to himself.

 

“These are just so nice, the words,” Remus says while picking up the letter from his lap, clutching it to his chest again. He softens his voice, whether with emotion or for the library’s sake. An employee reprimanded them earlier for sitting between bookshelves and blocking the path. They ventured farther into a corner and sat on the ground again, hoping to be quiet and avoid the stiff worker. A book with a faded blue cover, showing a woman's lower legs and heels, sits right next to Remus’ head.

 

A little embarrassed, Sirius shrugs. Honestly, he can’t remember which letter Remus reads, though all are in equal doses of sappiness. He’s no writer, that’s for sure, but his teachers always say he has a creative vocabulary in his report cards—in both senses of the phrase.

 

Taking Sirius’ hand, Remus kisses the corner of his palm, under Sirius’ thumb, and he lingers there. “I miss you even when I’m with you,” Remus says, “I adore you so.”

 

The Jump’s coldness finds Sirius soon enough. “I’m with you—” his ending sentence never gets spoken but Sirius dearly hopes Remus knows what he means. 

 

To mostly exist inside someone’s mind is a hard thing to do, but some days it’s the best thing there is. 

 

_I adore you so._

 

Yes, some days it’s the best. 

 

Sirius remembers in the faded blue space between dimensions that for Remus he had written, _you are the loveliest thing I’ve ever known._

 

~

 

James holds his hands out, palms up, during lunch. “Okay, so this is you guys before,” he shakes his right hand, “and this is you guys now,” he says, shaking his left. He waits a beat and then drops his right hand so dramatically Peter chokes on his lunchtime jellybeans. His left hand skyrockets. “The measuring system is in gayness,” James finishes, dropping the act and patting Peter on the back.

 

After hacking up a jellybean bundle and re-swallowing, Peter asks hoarsely, “Is this what it’s like seeing me—”

 

“Yes,” James and Sirius answer flatly before Peter can start talking about his past public smooching sessions. Ten minutes remain in their lunch hour and Sirius spent every second gabbing about Remus. 

 

“We need to write Remus about what a sap you are since he’s not here,” Peter says and James smacks the back of his head for the insensitivity regarding Remus’ absence. Peter goes on, used to this, “But you’re not leaving us any room to write.”

 

Sirius rolls his eyes at Peter’s whine. He does like that people enjoy writing to Remus, however, and his chest swells with pride. His boyfriend is a hot commodity—as long as that stays in the platonic sense. “My mouth is only so big, Wormtail.”

 

“There’s still your butthole,” James says and takes a huge crunch out of a carrot, smirking around it. 

 

“You talking about yourself again?” Sirius asks, aiming a kick under the table.

 

“Ow! Not this again, why do I always get hit in the crossfire between you guys?”

 

“For as long as you where multiple polo shirts at once,” Sirius says, eyeing Peter’s attire, redirecting his kick correctly at James this time.

 

“At least I don’t pop my collar,” Peter snarks back, tossing a chewed up jellybean at Sirius, though he aims the comment at trying-to-hard James.

 

“I bet Remus would love _my_ fashion sense.”

 

“Oh yeah,” James snorts, “I’m sure he’d be thrilled by your studded belt, Padfoot.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius groans, lying his head on Remus’ shoulder. “I’m so ready for this school year to be over. No more SATs, no more applications, no more grueling Minnie.”

 

Sirius’ head bumps up and down as Remus lightly chuckles, his shoulders shaking. “Summer will be here soon enough you big baby. That SAT worksheet you brought me last time was horrendous, though. And I thought you loved McGonagall.”

 

“Liar! You totally loved that worksheet and you know it. And I do but she’s intent on killing us with numbers. I’ll never look at a decimal the same way again.”

 

Remus chuckles longer and harder so Sirius raises his head and flashes a smile, committing Remus’ lopsided grin and dimple to memory, ignoring the purple bags under his dancing eyes. Bravely, Sirius takes Remus’ hand in his and intertwines their fingers.

 

“And you only pretend to not like school, you big emo nerd,” Remus teases.

 

Sirius gasps at _emo._ “James! That rat, what did he say? I’m not emo, I’m punk!”

 

“I thought Peter was the rat and James is a stag.”

 

“You are one hundred percent, completely, terribly awful.”

 

“You know in that percentage there’s a _decimal_ point zero zero zero—”

 

Sirius shoves his hand over Remus’ mouth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius presses kiss after kiss after kiss on Remus’ mouth, not _kissing_ him exactly, no parting lips, but pressing rapid fire pecks over and over and over until Remus laughs, pushing him away. “ _Come on_ ,” Remus says, tugging at Sirius’ hand, dragging him further up this goddamn fucking steep-ass hill. A vibrant green bush brushes Sirius’ leg and he desperately hopes it’s not some type of poison oak. “There are supposed to be really rare exotic birds up here with amazing singing calls!”

 

“Oh, and _I’m_ the nerd.”

 

“Uh, yes, you are. And I will gladly, humbly accept the title of bird nerd any day. Now shut up.”

 

“That’s what I was attempting to do just seconds ago.”

 

Remus repeats the sentence back to Sirius, except he mocks him playfully with a whiny, low-pitched voice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The A.D. doesn’t tolerate same-sex looking couples and so they walk for half an hour to a forest and then more minutes pass as they go deeper in. Some kind woman gave them the directions and Sirius now thinks maybe she hadn’t been so kind—this forest creeps the shit out of him. Remus, however, looks as at ease as he does in a bookshop.

 

They come across a creek with some patchy green grass next to it and they lie down, Sirius complaining about the itchiness. Remus huffs a laugh and looks up at the sky, an unusual aquamarine blue. 

 

“You’re not scared someone will come see us? We’re too far away to scream for help.” Sirius chews on his lower lip. He knows rationally they’re in a deserted area and most likely safe but during this last week of school, a major football jock got tied up to the school flagpole in his boxers after being outed as gay. The marauders dropped their huge end-of-the-school-year prank to make an even bigger, vengeful one. It requires ten gallons of glitter glue, an elaborate Shakespeare and mediocre Justin Timberlake costume, twenty blow horns, seven cacti, and a few extra hands. 

 

“We’re fine,” Remus says, his voice low and soothing. “Besides, I can pull off being a girl most of the time. Now,” Remus flips onto his side, propped up on one elbow and resting his other arm across Sirius’ chest, “tell me more about summer. It’s always warm and you have no school—at all?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A month passes and Sirius sees Remus as many times as James is cool—which is to say, none at all. Sirius doesn’t Jump to any A.D.s, even ones without Remus. No coldness, no tingling, no fading, no disappearing.

 

The last three weeks had given him a lot of time to think about something important. He and Remus have only been together for four months and in that time a distressing worry wiggled into the back of his brain, different from his thousands of other worries about Remus’ safety. Like with homosexuality, he’s too scared to research it online or to go look it up in the library. He needs to hear it from someone. 

 

Sirius cannot stand uncertainty and he needs to _know_ things, to have a definite answer. Figuring Peter has the most experience, he seeks him out alone, a tough thing to do. It’s either all three marauders or Sirius and James, rarely the third option of just him and Peter.

 

“So, you never just,” Sirius doesn’t know how to say it, “have that weird panicky feeling? Or numbness?”

 

“Not really.” Peter shrugs and starts rummaging through his backpack for something. He’d been shocked when Sirius ambushed him during his lunch break at the local grocery store, but it’s been fifteen minutes and they’ve both relaxed into this new dynamic. Sirius hates vulnerability but lacking any concept of containing emotions wins out in the end. Plus, Wormtail reacted the least judgmental, even if tactless, of anyone Sirius knew. Peter goes on, “Well, there is, like, anxiety, but it’s like this normal thing,” _ouch_ , “and not like yours. I don’t know.”

 

“ARGH,” Sirius says, burying his face in his hands, grimacing at the sticky thing his elbow slides into on the plastic table. Not exactly a top-tier lunch break place, being next to the store dumpsters.

 

“Lily has a word for that, you know,” Pete says off-handedly. “She’s like you with the,” he waves his hand in a circle, which fucking explains nothing.

 

Sirius lifts his head. “ _What_?”

 

Pete shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah. Not fully or something. But she’s weird, too.” _Double ouch._

 

“How do you know this,” Sirius asks, pressing his palms into the table and leaning forward.

 

“I know a lot of things. I’m the ears of the school remember?” Peter grins at Sirius for a second before rummaging through his bag again.

 

“Why haven’t you told James?”

 

“He won’t care. And I think it’s not nice to spread gossip. Seems private.”

 

There’s a long drawn out silence and then Peter blinks at Sirius, realizing he’s spilled the beans. “Oh. Oops?” He pulls out a tube of chapstick with an _aha!_ and coats his lips in a million layers. He smiles at Sirius with crinkled eyes, unbothered.

 

~

 

“Hey,” Sirius calls, jogging up to Lily, who stands defensively at his call. A shared friend of theirs told him she takes classes at the community college during the summer and he’d been impatiently waiting half an hour for her to get out of Psychology 101. Once in range of no one hearing, he says, “I hear you don’t like sex.”

 

“ _Excuse me_?” It’s impossible but Sirius swears her eyes flash the same shade as her hair—dark blood red. Clenching her fists, she starts to raise them, shifting her right foot back.

 

Sirius stops five feet away from her. “I’m the same,” he says with fake confidence, sauntering forward with his hands raised. “Geez, why are you always ready to throw a punch at us? What do you think of the marauders?”

 

Lily glances down at her fists and slowly lowers them, surprised to see they were there. “You know,” she starts, cocking her head. “I don’t know.” She relaxes from her fighting stance and leans against piss-yellow lockers, surveying him. “You guys might be a bunch of puppies but puppies also shit and piss everywhere and tear things up.”

 

Sirius raises his eyebrows and tilts his mouth sideways. “Fair enough.”

 

Satisfaction crosses Lily’s face and there’s a pause as she scrutinizes him. It makes his breathing tighter, reminding him of Remus. He can’t help but compare everyone to him. Lily has always switched between making it clear or not that she’s sizing you up. Her intimidation tactic leans toward passive-aggressive and obvious with her analysis, a warning to proceed with caution because she sees right through you.

 

Remus, Sirius’ darling Moony, never goes this route. Sirius figured out by now that Remus sorts people out quietly, intent on keeping them oblivious so if need be, he can attack with complete surprise. 

 

Lily’s a coiled snake ready to strike out; Remus is the cobra winding around your body, tightening his hold minute by minute, invisible and without you catching on.

 

Fucking hell, Sirius misses him. His boyfriend is so intelligent and fills him with pride. The other half of Sirius fears for him, even while knowing he’s more than competent. It wounds Sirius, knowing the hard hand Remus was dealt to craft this way of living and—

 

“Christ, okay, Black,” Lily says, “I don’t know if I want to know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re going to unload on me, we’re going to get ice cream.” She pushes herself off the lockers and Sirius freezes in shock at how easy this was, getting her to talk to him. “You’re paying.” She points a finger at him. “And the word is _asexual_ , so wear it out.”

 

“Was that a play on blank’s my name, don’t wear it out joke?” Sirius asks, delighted yet distanced, searching for distraction. “You’re not a nerd, you’re a _dork_.”

 

Lily rolls her eyes. “Ice cream.” She snaps her fingers. “Chop chop.”

 

~

 

“Okay,” Lily says slowly, twenty minutes later. “Name someone you find attractive.”

 

“Orlando Bloom.”

 

It’s Lily’s turn to make the raised eyebrows, slanted mouth, shrugging face. “Fair point.” Sirius smirks. “But I bet you were more into him because he became a pirate and was great with a sword.”

 

Sirius opens his mouth. _Well, she has him there._ He closes it.

 

“When you fantasize about Orlando do you imagine kissing at all?”

 

“I’m taken,” Sirius says smugly, quickly shoving a spoonful of rainbow sherbet in his mouth. He really shouldn’t bring up Remus.

 

“I kind of guessed so,” Lily drawls. She gives her strawberry ice cream a lick. “Okay then, when you dream about this mysterious partner, what do you dream about?”

 

Sirius opens and closes his mouth again, unsure how to word it. For someone he’s talked maybe a few sentences about non-school related things, he feels like he can say anything. “I mean I think of kissing him but not, like, _fantasizing_ or anything. Just like it’s nice and I like him a lot and it’s comforting. I just want to be close to him.”

 

Lily hums. “Do you want to go farther? Have you done other things? How much do you get turned on?”

 

Sirius flushes in mortification. “Keep your voice down,” he hisses. “And I—I don’t know.” He swirls the orange and pink colors of his sherbet with the pink spoon. “I don’t really like making out much.”

 

“Look, Sirius,” Lily says with a sigh. “You’re the one who came to me. I’m not sure why you’re fighting this but I get it. It’s not fun adapting to the notion that you’re different. But it’s a spectrum, okay? You don’t have to figure it all out now, you’re questioning everything at a speed fast pace, which isn’t bad. Maybe you’ll like it sometimes, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll never want to have sex or even kiss or maybe you will and you’ll like it but not have the urge for it. Just try and communicate or you’ll end up hurting yourself a lot, okay?”

 

It reassures Sirius and makes his head throb at the same time. “Figuring out being gay was way easier.” All he had to do was see gay men flirting in a club and know he wanted that, too. Now, he sees how he had been more amazed than aroused, however. He plants his chin in his palm. They’re sitting outside the shop at a weirdly patterned table made of iron, leaving indented triangles on his skin.

 

Lily shrugs. “Being bisexual is just as confusing for me.”

 

“You’re bi?”

 

“Maybe?” Lily’s freckles blend in with a faint blush. 

 

_God, I fucking miss Moony’s blush._

 

“You don’t have to figure it all out now. It’s a spectrum,” Sirius spits back to her, grinning. A strange friendship forms between all the confessions and, honestly? It’s a little frightening being friends with Lily Evans. 

 

She laughs harder than necessary, spilling strawberry ice cream on her white shirt and cursing colorfully. Sirius finally understands James’ raging crush on her. “Prongs can never get to know you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’re too fucking awesome.”

 

Lily’s grin spreads up wide and crooked. Sirius never noticed the gap between her two front teeth, or never witnessed a true smile. Deciding too much cheesy heart-to-heart talk has happened, Sirius says, “Too bad you don’t pay the guitar. Then you’d be a bi-ace player.”

 

“Is that a play on bass player? Oh no, we can’t be friends, I need to leave immediately right now, you emo piece of shit.”

 

“I’m _not_ emo!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of summer, Sirius Jumps into a cluttered but neat apartment with various giraffe knick-knacks all over. _Shit_ , he thinks, this will be hard to explain to the people living here. He wonders if there’s a fire escape he can sneak out to and climb down.

 

“Sirius! Is that you?” A desperate Moony voice comes from down the hallway straight ahead.

 

“Me!” Sirius shouts back, in his excitement forgetting to say _It’s_ beforehand.

 

Remus stumbles into the main room in long baggy sweatpants and a shirt that swallows him. Sirius’ heart demands with pounding fists to wake up to a sleep-wrinkled, messy haired, pink-cheeked Moony every morning. His soul sighs. “Moony.”

 

“Dog Star.” Remus sags with relief, coming forth and hugging Sirius tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here. I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

 

“Never,” Sirius promises. “I’ll always come back to you. Is this your home?”

 

Remus snorts hysterically. “I wish.” He doesn’t let go from the hug and it worries Sirius. Remus rarely initiates touch. “No, I’ve been here five weeks. I’m apartment sitting through Craigslist.”

 

“You know what Craigslist is?”

 

“Yeah, I went on a computer at the library. Dodgy, isn’t it? They just accepted me after meeting me once. I could steal any of this or sell it.”

 

“Remus, you’re the most charming, reassuring person in the world. I bet you could convince someone to let you stab them and they’d say thank you.”

 

Remus squeezes Sirius tighter, burying his head into Sirius’ collarbone and giving a playful bite. “This world is so normal. I was hoping you’d show up.”

 

Sirius takes Remus’ hands and pulls them off him, needing to see Remus fully and _know_ he’s real. Something strange lingers in the depths of Remus’ face as he steps back, something uneasy, his eyebrows closer together than usual. 

 

“Hello,” Sirius says softly, cupping Remus’ cheek.

 

“Hi.” It’s so shy. So small. And Sirius wants—

 

“Wait.” Sirius’ world shifts, coming to halt. “What’s this?” He moves to touch Remus’ neck. Flinching back, Remus ducks his head down, chin hiding what Sirius had sought out. “Moony, show me.”

 

“It’s fine, really, it’s nothing.”

 

“What happened!”

 

“Just,” Remus sighs, “just come here.” Taking Sirius’ hand, he guides him to a worn-down beige couch, his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped with defeat. They sit facing each other, Remus with his legs tucked protectively underneath him. The giraffe on the coffee table looks all sharp edges.

 

“Tell me,” Sirius demands, not gentle like he should be. Remus lifts his head, stretching his neck out and to the left. Morning sunlight catches on the straight, pink scar crossing down his throat. A fucking whimpering sound rises in Sirius’ throat and Remus flinches again. Carefully, Sirius lifts his hand and Remus tenses.

 

“Please don’t touch my neck,” he whispers.

 

Sirius doesn’t drop his hand. “ _Moony_.”

 

“It’s okay. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter, look it’s mostly healed.”

 

“Remus,” Sirius bites out. “Don’t act as if this isn’t a big deal.”

 

“Please do. For me, Dog Star. Please.”

 

They have a staring match, which ends up being a terrible decision on Sirius’ part because how can he look directly into those tender eyes and say no? He acts as if he’s unwavering until Remus’ face drops.

 

Clearing his throat, Sirius rests his twitching hands in his lap. “Do you want to nap longer or do you want to eat some breakfast?”

 

Remus’ relieved expression stirs up guilt in Sirius, as does Remus’ genuine, vulnerable smile. “Nap?”

 

As disappointing as spending their limited time lying in bed sounds, not talking, Sirius wants nothing more than to tuck Remus in and pretend he can watch over him forever. He understands once they slide into the guest room’s queen-sized bed why Remus chose this option, whether for himself or Sirius or both.

 

Pushing Sirius down, Remus then climbs in next, rolling onto his right side and reaching behind him, pulling on Sirius’ arm until Sirius caught on and scooted forward. He hesitantly pressed up against Remus’ back and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist. An awkward moment passes for him, not knowing what to do with his other arm, he had never thought about this— _should he slide it under Remus? no that sounds weird and will make it go numb_ —but in the end, he tucks his arm up and uses it as a pillow for his head.

 

So. Spooning. This is what it’s like.

 

Let Sirius be the first to say it’s a thousand times better than a neck-hand hug. Well, as soon as you get in the right position and ignore the hair in your face and your uncomfortable other arm. 

 

Remus shimmies himself backward, pressing fully into Sirius, and Sirius responds by holding him more fiercely. Remus sighs, his exhale long and happy. 

 

They lie like this for several minutes. Sirius listens to the tick-tick of the clock on his bedside. Each tick unwinds his feelings, sorting them out into columns, neater and neater, sub-columns and sub-columns for his sub-columns. 

 

“Were you scared?” Sirius breathes out finally. The room’s stillness makes the question feel like an echo.

 

“I thought of your face that first day. When I said I lied about the hot dogs.” Remus’ voice shrunk from how it normally sounds.

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Sirius’ voice cracks and he wiggles his body downwards to press his wet face into Remus’ back—the hair too ticklish to bury into. Remus smells like laundry detergent and it’s refreshing somehow, domestic and normal. 

 

“I know,” Remus whispers, he slowly twists his body around to face Sirius, leaving a small canyon of space between them. He mimics Sirius, using one arm as a pillow for his head. With his other hand, he slides it under Sirius’ shirt, resting it on Sirius’ side stomach, rubbing soothing circles with a warm thumb.

 

“Did you see any birds?” Sirius croaks.

 

Remus hums, too calm. “One with a beautiful green bill. I named them Larry.” His scar is so clean, the line so deliberate, and for some reason Sirius expects it to be more jagged, reflecting the feelings inside his neat columns.

 

“I love you,” Sirius blurts.

 

Remus’ eyelids pull back, exposing the whites of his eyes.

 

“I mean,” Sirius rushes to say, sidetracked by the embarrassment and Remus’ lovely blush, “I love you, I’m not sure I’m _in_ love with you, yet, but I want to say I love you. I just to want to say it.”

 

“You’re not saying it because of the…”

 

“No! No, no, I want to say it. Because you’re stupid and ridiculous and weird _,_ ” _and strong, resilient, brave, powerful_ , “and I love you.”

 

Twisting his torso down, Remus pushes his face into Sirius’ chest. “I love you, too,” he says to Sirius’ skin, muffled and scared.

 

Sirius laughs, each breath hurting in a good and bad way.

 

~

 

The universe gifts them two days together in this tiny cramped apartment, which Sirius gladly accepts even if he believes this fairness in having more time isn’t enough. Not that anything would ever be enough.

 

They play husband and husband, acting domestic and creating pretend lives. They drink terrible tea they pretend to enjoy and sip maturely, discussing their work—Sirius an accountant with a son of bitch assistant Larissa and Remus a zookeeper with an eccentric Zebra. Sirius forgets Remus doesn’t know _Madagascar_ and makes a reference to Marty, feeling shit when he remembers Remus knows no pop culture except for what James and Peter write him or Sirius tells. 

 

They eat dry lentils for dinner, discussing the health benefits.

 

“The protein is two hundred percent higher than donuts, you know,” Remus says in a stiff voice, drinking from a glass of wine filled with bubbly soda they found in the fridge. “The sprinkles kind.”

 

“Ah yes,” Sirius nods, “I read that in the morning article next to the broccoli apocalypse report.”

 

“Ah! What a tragedy, indeed. Daniel from work said something about it.”

 

Sniffing, Sirius says, “Daniel, your ex-boyfriend Daniel?”

 

Remus stifles a laugh out of character and recomposes himself. “I told you, it was strictly platonic.” Under the table, he hooks his foot around Sirius’ ankle. Sirius’ irrational jealousy over this fake scenario eases up. 

 

Sirius harrumphs. 

 

At night, they sleep in the apartment owner’s clothes, the man who has only extra larges, which is fantastic because Remus looks adorable and small, drowning in cloth. If only they could be Sirius’ clothes. 

 

Their kisses are slow and languid. Sirius’ mind wanders often to how much he adores Remus and how fun the day had been and little to do with the actual kissing, except for it meant they were close and real and like a “normal” couple. Normality meaning existing as a couple living in the same dimension. He’s grateful Remus doesn’t want anything further, he’s reserved, but unlike Sirius’ neutrality, there’s a hesitancy, a touch of fear, a question in each drag of their lips. 

 

If anyone is to understand this, it’s Sirius. 

 

To not know gentle touch, to be affection-starved. 

 

Remus spoons him this time around and Sirius, before drifting off, asks, “Will you ever tell me if touching is too much?”

 

A pause. Softly, “I want more.” 

 

Taking the hand wrapped around his waist, Sirius pulls it further across him and intertwines their fingers.

 

~

 

Remus shakes Sirius awake on their last morning together—not that they know that—and grabs a pen, flipping Sirius onto his stomach and then writing all over his back. 

 

“I can write letters! I can write Prongs and Wormtail and everyone back!” 

 

What a horribly ticklish form of communication, but anything bringing Remus joy, especially with the new scar development, means the world to Sirius—means _all_ the worlds to him.

 

He wonders if he had been wrong, later, when James and everyone read his back and laugh uproariously, refusing to tell Sirius what Remus had written. 

 

_That snarky wolf. Lucky I love you._

 

In Sirius’ head, imaginary Remus replies completely unlike who he is, something he’d never say— _lucky you have a home and a family and safety._

 

 

* * *

 

 

With laughter, Remus drops the letter and hugs Sirius. “Of course, yes, yes I understand and I love you, still. I don’t care. Well, I do care about you being comfortable.”

 

“I don’t know if I am,” Sirius rushes to say, his mouth working wonky around the next word, “asexual, that is.”

 

“You like knowing things, though.”

 

Pleased, Sirius hugs Remus back and then lets go. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

 

“Dog Star, love,” Remus cups Sirius’ cheek, “you remember how I asked for your pronouns when we first met? I came from a very, very progressive world. I know a little about many things and it’s completely valid and real. We’ll figure it out together, okay? Our relationship exists between dimensions and unknown time, there are weirder things to us than this.”

 

“Relationship,” Sirius repeats. “Boyfriends?”

 

Fastly reddening cheeks. “Well, duh.”

 

Sirius teases, “Boyfriends.”

 

Remus rolls his eyes, but he sucks his upper lip in a delighted gesture. “Why don’t we go to bookstores? See if they have any information on this.”

 

“We don’t have to—”

 

“Dog Star, I don’t want to be an idiot on this. And it’s good to learn together.” The _and you’re too scared to look it up alone_ is silent and Sirius loves Remus for knowing this and knowing to not say it. The sweaty nerves inside him become nauseous in a new, excited way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Sirius, we are _not_ stealing a car.” Remus says it so firmly it gives Sirius flashbacks of Dad during The Great Cookie Fiasco of 1999.

 

Sirius heaves the biggest sigh he can manage, arranging his face into the best puppy dog look, lower lip jutted out—but not too much to look ridiculous—and eyes widened, filled with sorrow, head tilted slightly to the side and ducked down a little. 

 

“Dog Star,” Sirius can hear the waver in Remus’ voice, “we can’t change worlds like this. We need to try to do as little as we can while we’re here.”

 

Sirius noticed this by now, Remus’ carefulness. Moving chairs to the precisely same spot as they were before they sat in them, refusing to touch much, preferring to go to parks and nature where little of human life can be disturbed. Slowly, Sirius returns to his scale of what and what not to do, thinking Remus favors paranoia too much—though for good reasons on his part, Sirius recognizes.

 

Sirius clasps his hands up to his chin. “Please, Moony, just this once, I _promise._ ” Remus raises his eyebrows, lips pursed in disbelief. “The carnival is an hour drive away and I can feel it that we’re gonna be together for a while this Jump—” a lie, Sirius never knew, “—and we can be like a regular couple. Please. I want to take you out on a date.”

 

His hand fluttering over his collarbone briefly, Remus licks his lips. Drawing out the pause between each word, he says, “It wouldn’t be absolutely terrible if we did. Okay.” He straightened up from his slumping posture. “Fine, but I get to be the one doing it. You stay back and let me get the car. Deal?”

 

“You know how to steal a car!”

 

“ _Keep your voice down_.” Aloof, Remus shrugs, a suppressed smirk teasing his lips. “Maybe.”

 

Sirius grabs Remus’ hand with little thought, twirling him in and kissing him hard on the mouth, forgetting they’re in public. It’s worth it, when they pull back and Remus turns his face away, as if that hides his cheeks, and looks much more relaxed.

 

“So, I want that one.”

 

Remus shakes his head with a fake-disappointed huff as Sirius points to a red sports car.

 

~

 

They drive a convertible down the highway, the roof pushed down so the air whips their faces. Remus laughs heartily as Sirius’ growing hair flies all over his face, not at all like the romantic movies where it blows _backwards_ with the wind. He offers Sirius a hairband that’s a little scrunchie-like and a dark patterned blue. Sirius pulls his hair back gratefully. A beautiful, graceful braid contains Remus’ hair, golden in the sunlight, the strands pulled clean and tight. Lily, who has taken to sitting at the marauders table at lunch (they’re too afraid to ask why), likes to wear her short hair in tiny braided pigtails that are loose with scarlet strands falling out.

 

Easily enough, they slip into the carnival Sirius heard teenagers talking about—this time Sirius shows off his mischievous skills, sauntering forward as he slips Remus in without having to pay. They luck out, you pay full price at the entrance booth and then have free rein to all rides, not needing to buy tickets for each one. Even though the big crowd works in their favor, Sirius still wishes for it to be smaller, less bustle.

 

They see no other couples with a same-sex partner, but Remus confidently grasps Sirius’ hand, swinging it as they walk. People stare and Sirius glares them away, proud with the intimidation act he can pull off in any A.D. Something about a pretty person sneering always scares people, and Sirius is an exceptionally pretty person. 

 

“Did you see that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Them! That couple, right there, the girl winked at us.” Remus unconsciously speeds them up with a comical spring in his step. 

 

Sirius bristles and whips his head around, searching for the offender. “She winked at you?”

 

“Not like that, love, at _us,_ I mean, like, a couple. Maybe she’s pan or bi!”

 

Sirius doubts it but maybe that’s bias. None of his peers ever dared to come out as bisexual and he doesn’t think anyone knows the word pansexual. School restarted a week ago and a nasty rumor is going around about a girl, Mary, people claiming she kissed another girl at a party.

 

“Yeah, maybe,” Sirius nods his head hard, smiling encouragingly.

 

Remus grins, tightening his hold on Sirius’ hand and swinging their arms extra silly. The notion that this date doesn’t exist in Sirius’ A.D., that it’s rare and unusual in every sense, wipes away from Sirius’ mind. A large, swelling bubble settles in his chest, almost uncomfortable with how much happiness it generates.

 

“Can we go on that one?”

 

“Really?”

 

“What, you think I’m some uptight unadventurous goody two-shoes _dude_?”

 

After sticking out his tongue, Sirius says, “Fine, Mr. Sassy, let’s see if you can catch up with a real live marauder.”

 

Remus takes the lead, weaving them through the crowd with excellent expertise, not bumping into anyone, going to the ride he had pointed it out. The Ferris wheel has a twist—instead of carts that you sit in and go around in dull circles, it has enclosed cages you strap yourself into. The cages swing around if you lean forward and back. When you go from the top of the Ferris wheel to back down, it flips the cage completely over until you’re back upright. 

 

“A romantic first ride,” Sirius declares, jitters in his stomach that come during the first ride before he gets adrenaline’s sweet euphoria.

 

Remus laughs, giddy, and Sirius congratulates himself a thousand times over for convincing them to come. The ride jolts with a start and their date officially begins—twirly and giggly and racing from one ride to another, finding five dollars on the ground and using it to play a rigged toss-this-ball-into-a-bucket game where they win no prize at all, Sirius charming the cotton candy worker (Remus doesn’t get jealous somehow) into giving him a blue and pink one to eat and stuff into each other’s faces, and working their best to get the other person to throw up from wild rides. 

 

“Let’s go on the Beauty and Beast one,” Sirius tugs on Remus’ hand, slick with sweat. Night descends upon them, a soft indigo tint to everything, creating a surreal glow. Light bulbs on signs advertising the ride flash, casting shadows of light on their faces that then dance back into darkness. Everything has softer edges. 

 

Remus giggle-snorts. “The what?”

 

“Beauty and the Beast, you know, the teacup ride,” Sirius says off-handedly.

 

“I don’t know that reference.”

 

Sirius stops abruptly, causing Remus to crash into his chest. Wrapping a hand around Remus’ neck, Sirius crashes their lips together, teeth knocking, but Sirius swallows Remus’ gasp, and keeps kissing, intent on not letting their night dampen with the reminder that Remus doesn’t belong to Sirius’ A.D.—working to make Remus forget any woes.

 

They break apart after only a few seconds—well, then another few seconds as Remus chases his lips, parting them and kissing Sirius more passionately. Maybe the adrenaline does it, but for once, Sirius has a ball of lust in his stomach from the kiss, disappointed in a different way when they stop.

 

“Okay, right this way, Monsieur, be my guest on the teacups,” Sirius attempts imitating Lumière and hums the _Be Our Guest_ tune as they make their way to the teacup ride.

 

Sirius fools himself, in the end, because the minute he staggers off this ride that spins around _way_ faster than the one at Disney Land, _he_ is the one up-chucking into a trash can.

 

“That’s so funny, huh?” Sirius rasps, wiping his mouth after. Remus clutches his stomach, shaking his head silently. “Well, why don’t you have a taste of it then!” 

 

Remus dodges Sirius’ lunge, crying, _no, no!_ as Sirius tries to smooch him with vomit breath and taste. He gives up after a few playful minutes, but not until he at least blows a big nasty breath in Remus’ face.

 

“Worst date ever,” Remus says, knocking his shoulder into Sirius.

 

“You mean _best_ date ever to exist in the whole universe of all universes of all time.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it really is.”

 

They share a shy, sweet smile.

 

The teacup ride had been far from terrible, despite nausea from spinning. With the way it covered and hid them as they had spun, they went at it, kissing fervently, their hips pressed with a bruising force into the bar that trapped them in and kept them from turning toward each other comfortably. Even with a dull hint to the kiss, Sirius loved it, loved their whispers of _is this okay? is this okay?,_ cold and warm hands slipping under shirts, fingers curling in hair, harsh teeth and soothing tongue, a soft moan Sirius keeps on repeat in his mind.

 

The date feels pleasantly cool—he can’t explain it, but with the shifting sunlight to darkness and the gentle overwhelming of feelings, it feels cool like shadowed asphalt on a hot summer day.

 

But it ends in heat, with Remus tugging him behind the bathroom, his hand feverish hot. Sirius doesn’t need to be told. They touch their foreheads together, breathing and holding hands. Sirius counts eight beats and then a lonely ninth, stumbling a step forward from the sudden loss, his hands burning with fading heat.

 

Sirius discovers a muted loneliness between the flickering brightness bringing the carnival to life and night’s expanding darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius nearly hisses at the sun, pissed at being sent to a beach without sunblock. His skin prickles as he trudges through the ocean toward the pier, the water up to his hips and making his movements sluggish, lagging like a video game.

 

“Dog Star.”

 

A wave carries Sirius forward toward the beach, taking advantage of his surprise, and he slams his heels into the sand, scurrying back.  Remus wades through slower than Sirius, the water way past his hips, his shorter height a disadvantage against Sirius.

 

“I’ve been calling your name for ages. Why are you so far out? You’re burning your pretty skin.”

 

_Pretty skin_ —Sirius doesn’t need someone to say it to know that it’s true, but having Remus say it and in a lovey-smirking tone, it’s all Sirius’ dreams come true and more. “Um,” Sirius says looking down, glad for the dark, murky blue sea. He mutters his explanation.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m naked.”

 

“Oh.” Remus blinks Peter-ishly and then, “ _Oh._ ” He reaches out and cups Sirius’ face briefly with sympathy. “Did you Jump into the water or on the sand?”

 

Sirius huffs. “The sand.”

 

“Oh, diddly, I’m sorry.”

 

“Diddly?”

 

“Oh. Is that not a term of endearment in your world?”

 

Sirius laughs, shaking his head. “No, my diddly, it’s not.”

 

“Fine, love, pea, dragon, flower, harry, bucky. It can’t be that funny! What do you guys say?”

 

“We say love,” Sirius says, grabbing Remus’ hand as they start moving again. He worries that Remus will drift away because he’s shorter, more swallowed up by the ocean. “Sweetheart, honey, baby.”

 

“ _Baby_? You call each other after, well, _babies_?” Remus scoffs, “And I’m the silly one. I’m not calling you a child.”

 

Laughter becomes endless with Remus. Barely a few minutes together and it’s like they’ve never been apart, rose-tinted glasses slipping on immediately. “Okay, then. What about babe?”

 

Remus tilts his head side to side in consideration, ending in a shrug. Sirius drinks in every movement, keeping his head fully turned to watch Remus, walking forward blindly, leaving no room to miss anything of Remus—his actions, his expressions, his glowing look in the sun.

 

“Well, love,” Remus teases the change in pet name, “I’m sorry. I’m glad you have water to hide in, though you’re getting burned.”

 

_If I look an unattractive shade of red I will fight the sun._ Sirius quickly shoots the sky a glare. “It’s fine, the pier will have shade once we get under it.”

 

“Smart.” Sirius straightens up at the praise, preening. 

 

With his dry hand, Remus rubs his eye, yawning.

 

“Tired?”

 

Remus jolts dramatically when seaweed brushes their legs. “A little,” he says, sounding more awake.

 

Sirius still hasn’t looked straight, a kink forms in his neck from staying turned to the side for so long. Sleep bruises underline Remus’ eyes intensely, familiar purple nearly black. “How much sleep did you get?”

 

“Uhh,” Remus drags the mumble out as he considers. A minute, at least, goes by. “I don’t remember. It’s been a few days.”

 

Sirius stops. “Days?”

 

“Yeah.” A half-formed wave washes over them, drenching the last dry part of Remus’ shirt. “It’s hard to tell, I suppose. Traveled eight times during then but I’m pretty good at guessing.” He tugs Sirius into moving again, using his other hand to now skim the water’s surface.

 

“But—but, how are you still awake? Why?”

 

“Adrenaline’s a lovely thing.”

 

Too many thoughts race through Sirius’ mind and, naturally, the only one to come through his mouth is the one with the least concern in it. “Is that why you’re so cheerful?”

 

Remus’ laugh is grating, a one-note bark. “No. I’m happy to be safe.” Remus quickly adds, “And with you, of course. Seeing you. Being with you.”

 

Sirius hates this—that Remus thinking of Sirius second as a good thing hurts the least. He opens his mouth, not even sure of what he’s going to say, but then he’s engulfed in a chill. He panics, thinking he’s leaving, but his eyes adjust to a quiet darkness. They’ve reached the pier. Faint voices float above them and a dark wooden pillar stands beside them, covered in barnacles and a starfish. His hot skin sighs in the chill. The taste of salt intensifies in the air.

 

Before Sirius can bring the subject back up, Remus shakes their intertwined hands above the water. “Listen. Seagulls! Do you hear them?”

 

Mom says love makes you brave and Sirius worries that she’s lied to him because Sirius finds it the opposite. With that kind smile directed at him and only him, the endearing reminder of when they first met, Sirius lacks all courage to ask the important questions.

 

“They sound nicer here,” Sirius says, tucking a strand of Remus’ hair away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A week later and they’re at a beach again—a _lake_ Remus keeps correcting Sirius. Though isn’t the sand part still called a beach? _But you’re talking about the water, Dog Star, so it’s a lake, not a beach._

 

Sirius remembers _The Little Mermaid_ , leading to him telling the story and even singing the songs.

 

“ _Poor unfortunate souls, so sad, so true_ ,” Remus sings, not bad, and sways his shoulders. “I like Ursula.”

 

“Yeah, she’s pretty fucking awesome.”

 

“I like when you sing.” Remus extends his tan legs out so the lapping water licks at his feet. Sirius adores Remus' funny, square-shaped toes and the freckles cluttered around his knees. “So,” Remus says, “I want to be _part of your world_.” 

 

“What?”

 

“Your world, tell me more about it.”

 

“Like my real A.D. or my original one?”

 

“Either,” Remus says plainly.

 

Sirius leans back on the _beach_ , the sand here more pebbly but not hot, shifting more weight onto his hands placed behind his hips. He tosses his head back to get hair out of his eyes and Remus chuckles. “Well. I can’t remember much of what was supposed to be my home. Similar to here, the ones we always go to, I think. A lot of nature, a lot of green. When I first started living with the Potters, they moved us up to a place where there’s more trees, mountains.”

 

Remus flips onto his side, facing Sirius, and places a hand on Sirius’ thigh, staring at him with soft round eyes.

 

“Mostly, I remember my mother. I think she loved me.” Sirius furrows his eyebrows. The clouded sun glares on the water’s surface. “I don’t remember my dad much. But I remember her crying and kissing me and saying _thank god you’re okay._ But then I showed up naked at a big dinner party—this is my first, vivid memory—and I don’t know what it was but I spoiled something big. Drama, I don’t know. My father got mad and he got mad at mother and mother got mad at me.” Sirius’ shirt is off by choice this time and he shifts, showing his back to Remus, the faint scar running down his shoulder blade. His mother had shaken him, demanding to know why he did this—as if Jumping was in his control—and he fell back, the corner of a coffee table slicing a deep cut in his skin. Remus’ cool fingertips brush it, soothing away the messy memory. “Then all I remember is my little brother being loved for being normal.” Sirius twists his body back. Remus’ expression darkens. “They kept locking me away so no one would see me disappear. I think they thought punishment would stop it, but…”

 

Remus’ thumb brushes back and forth across the skin of Sirius’ thigh. “It made it worse?”

 

“Dunno. I saw the Potters when I was four and then I kept wishing I’d go back, so I could be with Mom, Mrs. Potter, who gave me cookies. And then I Jumped back there again and I played with James.”

 

Remus’ thumb stutters and then resumes. “H-how?”

 

“It’s the only place I’ve ever Jumped back to more than once. Mom and Dad were never freaked out by me. At least, not that they showed a small baby Sirius.” Sirius cracks a smile and Remus’ mouth softens. “They became very desperate with trying to keep me with them after seeing all the bruises, but they kept trying ways to keep me from Returning. We tried herbs and trying to be held tight by someone and other things. It took awhile to perfect but I was the one to figured it out. It wasn’t about stopping a Jump.”

 

Remus rolls onto his stomach, draping part of his upper body over Sirius’ legs and resting his chin on Sirius’ thigh. He looks up through his eyes lashes and it hits Sirius with an all-consuming pang of how beautiful he is. “I love you.”

 

“Go on,” Remus says softly. “I love you, too.”

 

Licking his lips, smiling, Sirius says, “I was about six and I Jumped from my birth A.D. into a new one—not the Potter’s one—and when I felt myself become cold and knew I was Returning, I wished so badly that I could go to James and not back to my horrid parents and the punishment I knew was waiting for me.”

 

“It worked?”

 

The pebbles dig into Sirius’ hands and he shifts around, careful not to jostle Remus, nodding his head. “I can’t stop myself from Jumping to a new A.D., but if I focus really hard on the physicalness of a room in my house, when I feel the chill sweep over, then I can Return to the Potters.”

 

Remus says nothing for a few minutes, a creased line between his eyebrows. His face is more open and expressive than his old control over it but even so, Sirius hardly can tell what goes on inside Remus’ magnificent head. 

 

Eventually, he asks, “Have you ever tried to Return to a different world you’ve been to before?”

 

“No. Mom and Dad banned me from trying, in case I get stuck.” At eight, Sirius and James started trying stupid experiments with Jumping, such as if you hurt yourself in an A.D., will you still have the injury when you Return—very much yes, to their parents’ displeasure. Thus, the rule was born. 

 

“Good. It’s too precious to dance the devil with.” Remus presses a soft kiss to Sirius’ thigh, lingering, and Sirius can feel the difference in temperature of their bodies, the split between Remus’ lips and how the lower lip is bigger, squishier against his skin.

 

From this angle, Sirius sees a sliver of the mermaid tattoo, which had sparked him into the Disney retelling in the first place. Nearly a year has gone by since they inked their skin and this is only the second time he’s seen Remus’ tattoo. In the meantime, it has blossomed with scattered colors, looking almost water-colored, visible through the side slits in Remus’ strange bright orange shorts. 

 

The mermaid’s hair is green, tendrils of seaweed, the torso blank, filled in as Remus’ own warm brown skin, and the tail swishes with a beautiful mix of pinks, yellows, and blues. Gorgeous, in how it looks and in how it hurts Sirius’ heart to not have been there while the finishing touches happened. But he saves those spirals of thoughts for later, when he can dwell on someone seeing that part of Remus, of touching him. 

 

“You know,” he says, his voice almost a murmur. He sits up, moving them both around until he can view it properly by pushing the side of Remus’ shorts down, the curled tail and arms reaching up, the hair suspended in imaginary water. Sirius strokes it, a habit he often did with his own tattoo. Up here on his thigh, Remus’ skin is bumpier. Sirius finishes his thought, “I also chose a mermaid for you because you’re siren.” He looks up into Remus’ brown eyes, paler in the sunlight. “You call to me.”

 

~

 

“You’re doing it again,” Lily says.

 

“What?”

 

“Making gooey eyes at the cat.”

 

“Her name is _Cheeky_ ,” Sirius says, short for Chicago, fighting the urge to bring his arm up and kiss Cheeky’s forehead.

 

“Am I ever going to meet this elusive boyfriend of yours—Oh, Pete!” Lily springs up from the table, snatching her bag away from the chocolate milk dripping where she sat. Peter winks at Sirius while Lily scowls down at her wet pants and James sidles up next to Sirius, pressing firmly into his side for damage-control support.

 

“’M okay,” Sirius mutters under his breath. He knew the question would come up at some point, that someday he’ll make excuses for why his boyfriend sounds imaginary.

 

Touching Cheeky with his thumb, Sirius closes his eyes, applying pressure, and makes a wish that Remus be safe, wherever he be. Opening his eyes, he taunts, “Bladder problems, Evans?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Not all Jumps are paradise—something Sirius learned early on in his life, but he came to rely on Jumps with Remus as an emotional paradise.

 

Arrogantly ready to boast about his new age, nineteen sounding sleek and edgy, Sirius’ bubble deflates upon seeing Remus gazing out a library window, melancholy sketched tragically on his face, viewable from the street Sirius walks. He hurries in and up the flight of stairs, his feet guiding him almost instinctively on their own as if they permanently know all paths to Remus.

 

Remus faces the window, not looking at Sirius, though he stiffened, obviously knowing Sirius hovers. They’re in the quiet part of the library, where desks line up for anyone to study or get work done in a silent place. Acting like Remus is a fish, a guppy ready to dart away at the slightest movement of a human in water, Sirius creeps slowly, pulling out the chair next to Remus. Three other people sit a few desk spaces to the left and a girl looks quizzically at Sirius. He raises an eyebrow until she turns away.

 

“Remus?” A tremble rocks through Sirius’ voice.

 

Not moving his face, Remus holds his hand out, allowing Sirius to grab it. 

 

When Remus got his tattoo, his hand merely laid in Sirius’ rather than holding it. Now—now though, he grips Sirius’ hand tighter than even the Potters had in the past when they tried to keep Sirius from Jumping. He grips it with enough force that Sirius holds back a pained noise. He grips it so that a burning sensation outlines where his fingers press into Sirius’ skin, and Sirius finds it comforting in how real it is, how much it shows that Remus is a physical being and he’s here, even when he looks anything but.

 

Remus grips Sirius’ hand like a boat in a raging storm using an anchor in a futile attempt to stay afloat. 

 

In his A.D., Sirius would demand answers; but this is not there.

 

If this had been James or Peter, Sirius would have kicked them or embarrassed them out of the library so that he could shout; but Remus is not them.

 

He may be reckless but he had enough common sense to not make a spectacle with Remus’ life on the line.

 

So they sit. 

 

They sit for what feels like an eternity to Sirius. He had forgotten the feeling of being trapped in an A.D. with nothing, never came to the awareness of exactly how easygoing and fast Remus made time fly. 

 

Breaking through Sirius’ whipping thoughts, Remus wordlessly kisses Sirius’ cheek, letting go of his hand and standing up, making his way to the bookshelves. Hopeful, Sirius chases after him, ready for the fun to begin or for questions to be answered, but when he gets there—Remus disappeared. 

 

Sirius knows Remus Traveled but he looks through all the sections anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of a slumping-to-the-left gait. Sirius is still searching when he Returns, staggering through the aisles until the very last convulsion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The year ends with three more Jumps, each of which they keep their mouths shut on the subject of the Library Incident. Sirius wants a reward for the fucking self-control he uses to not command Remus to tell him everything—all year he has kept quiet on the small bits and pieces. Slowly, his mind has started to obsess over it, the small signs and words, the cut on Remus’ throat.

 

_The cut on Remus’ throat._

 

But on their last day together in 2005, like each time, Sirius can’t bring himself to say anything, doesn’t want to pop this bubble of young love they’re in, this fragile bird they cradle in their hands. They have limited time together and Sirius would rather suffer the uncomfortable feelings of not knowing than fight when they could be doing something much better.

 

“So, explain New Year’s again?”

 

“Well, in my A.D., it’s tomorrow but I guess it’s today here? Anyway, it’s the last day of the year—”

 

“The earth rotating around the sun, three hundred and sixty-five days, yes, but why the celebration?”

 

Remus looks subdued, tired but content, standing in a grassy lawn surrounded by hundreds of other people. A projection lights up a screen put up together on a wire and it times the countdown in large navy blue numbers—two minutes.

 

“I don’t know, it’s just kind of a tradition? People kiss at midnight and people make resolutions, things they say they’ll do and change for the better next year but never do. It’s stupid but people always look for a day to party.”

 

Remus laughs a little, worming his arm around Sirius’ waist and leaning warmly into him, snuggling right into Sirius’ heart. “I’ve come to that conclusion about human beings.”

 

Sirius mocks the sentence back in a funny voice, earning another laugh out of Remus. “Someone’s feeling pretentious tonight,” he says, draping an arm around Remus’ shoulders, drawing him closer.

 

“No,” Remus corrects, “I’m feeling good tonight.”

 

“So, you really have never been to a New Year’s before?”

 

Remus shakes his head against Sirius’ chest. “No.”

 

It’s adorable—way better than tomorrow night when Sirius will hide in the bathroom during the countdown—and charming how into it Remus gets, shouting out with the others, counting down from sixty, jumping on his feet at the last ten seconds, and then kissing Sirius madly, nipping at his lip. 

 

“Calm down, you wolf,” Sirius says as he pulls back, ears partly deaf from the people’s screams. 

 

Remus gives a sarcastic growl. He sighs heavily. “Well, this is terribly depressing.”

 

“What? Why?” Sirius frowns.

 

“Now this is going to be so terribly cliche when I tell you I love you.”

 

“That is very cliche,” Sirius agrees, “but we say I love you all the— _oh._ Oh. Oh, you mean, you’re saying, are you—”

 

“I’m saying,” Remus raises his voice to talk over Sirius, his voice a grinning smile, “that I’m stupidly, horrendously, tragically in love with you, in the very best way there is to be.”

 

“God—you can’t just—fucking—” Sirius pulls Remus through the crowd, cursing all the way, and past couples making out on the ground, far into the dark, until there is a lonely patch of grass. He pushes Remus down and lies on top of him.

 

“Um,” Remus starts, amused.

 

“Shut up. I just have to do this for a while.”

 

“Drape yourself across me like a blanket over a Victorian woman?”

 

“Yes.” Sirius adds, “Duh.”

 

“Ah,” Remus tuts, “duh, of course. Silly me.”

 

“Silly you,” Sirius repeats. He soaks it in for several minutes and then lifts his head from Remus’ collarbone. “I’m so in love with you it drives me insane.”

 

“In the best way?” Remus asks weakly, and not from the pain of having all Sirius’ weight on top of him.

 

“The very, very, very, very,” Sirius keeps going on until Remus is pleading for him to shut up, “best,” he finally finishes.

 

“What did I sign myself up for?” Remus muses.

 

Sirius laughs and they kiss until Remus’ Travel comes, the teasing question forgotten for now but soon, it will become one they are familiar with far too often.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this doesn't represent every ace person's experience. I based it vaguely off my experience when I first started the smooch-smooch business. I see this Sirius as more of someone who needs to know exactly what's going on and investigates quickly. For some, it takes many more years to sort everything out and Sirius still will be doing so and evolving on the spectrum over time  
> (and yes, Sirius definitely is different with needing to know answers when it comes to Remus—young love is especially blinding and denial is bliss)
> 
> * [ Ferris wheel with spinning cages](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7s7cNxqIux0)  
> * they met fourteen times; that's a total of **twenty-four** all together
> 
> *next up: 2006-2008, when the relationship grows up real fast
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking through!! every kudo and comment is amazing and extremely motivating! my schedule is changing this next week so I'm not sure how that will change this story's plan but most of next chapter is written since I stupidly thought I could fit four years into one part
> 
> you can find me on tumblr here [siriuslysarcasticremus](https://siriuslysarcasticremus.tumblr.com/)  
> : )


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